


How Hard Can Co-Parenting A Child With Your Ex Be?

by inkjoy



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Bc Juno is caring for a child so its gonna come up, Domestic Fluff, Family Dynamics, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Penumbra Minibang 2020, Peter needs to stop wearing expensive clothes around a baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24217975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkjoy/pseuds/inkjoy
Summary: “So, what now?” Nureyev asked, “I can only assume you have a plan for caring for the child?” He said ‘child’ like it was an alien object that might attack the minute he turned his back on it.“Well, you and Juno are going to look after them, of course.”-Peter and Juno are still kind of awkward around each other, even after their night undercover. But the lingering tension has to be put to the side when the find themselves having to co-parent a child for an entire week aboard the Carte Blanche while the rest of the crew completes a mission. It is, naturally, complete chaos. But it must just give them the chance to breach the gap stretching out between them.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 40
Kudos: 193





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies!! I am feeling pretty excited about this fic! It's thanks to the The Penumbra Minibang that this exists! This is my entry for that and my wonderful artists were nat and duke rose. 
> 
> The art in this chapter is by nat! You can find them on instagram and [twitter](https://twitter.com/thisisafiller27)with @thisisafiller27 And it is absolutely beautiful I am in awe. So big thanks to them <3
> 
> This is my first longer story I've completed in a while and its been a challenge but a real enjoyable ride as well. And without further adieu, enjoy the fic.

Being stranded on the desert of a foreign planet wasn’t what Juno had in mind for his afternoon but he could be flexible. This desert wasn’t even radioactive, so it was already a huge step up from the last time he’d been stumbling around a desert back on Mars.

Peter, on the other hand, didn’t appear to have the same unbothered attitude and had been steadily cursing for the past twenty minutes while they traipsed across the warm sand. They were headed for a ship that had promised them information on a future job. And the people living there were a bit too eager to shoot anything flying out of the sky, so Peter and Juno had drawn the short straws and been the ones chosen to hike two hours over mountains of and past seventeen different species of cactus and counting.

Peter’s once elegantly coiffed hair was sagging pitifully against his head, stray strands sticking to his neck and forehead with sweat. His shirt too, had all but melded itself to his body and he fanned his face, skin flushed red from the heat.

He should have looked as awful as Juno felt, and yet the sweaty, dishevelled appearance was somehow only another offshoot of his ever-changing, yet no less powerful allure.

They trudge in silence up yet another sand hill, legs straining with each step. Nureyev reached the top first, and threw his hand head as he took big heaving breaths. He might have been saying something but Juno found himself more concerned with a drop of sweat sliding tantalising down the slope of his neck, and suddenly his breath was lost for a reason that had nothing to do with the sun bearing down and the ache is his muscles.

Things had been weird between them since they had gone undercover as Mister and Madam Dauphin. There wasn’t the same awful, wounded tension between them and Nureyev had softened a little, but things were far from fixed.

Which was good, because Juno knew rushing into anything with Nureyev had proven not to work, and he wanted to gain back the trust he had broken. Still, when the man looked like beauty incarnate it was hard for Juno to remember himself.

Nureyev was looking at him now, one amused eyebrow quirking up.

“What?” Juno blurted out.

“I said, dear detective, that we’re here.” He pointed to the left and now Juno had torn his eyes away from Nureyev he saw a ship looking half sunken into the sand.

“That doesn’t look like a very cared for base,” Juno scrubbed a hand down his face. “What are the chances we’re going to find it abandoned?”

“Well Juno, you’re the detective between us, but somehow I feel like the chance is quite likely.” He shrugged one elegant shoulder and began traipsing down the hill towards the ship.

“Great,” he grumbled before following him. “And I keep telling you that I’m not a detective anymore. I’m literally a criminal now. And you should let me go first, it could still be a trap.”

“I don’t need to be coddled and protected, Juno. If you recall, I’ve been in this business quite a while longer than you.” As if to prove his point, Nureyev had managed to find and unlock a side door in the time it had taken Juno to reach his side.

“I know that,” Juno sighed, “but I’m the one with a blaster.” He shook it in one hand for emphasis and nudged Nureyev out of the way.

The man rolled his eyes but steps willing to the side, “Well then, ladies first.” He made a grand sweeping gesture towards the door. Juno inclined his head in fake modesty.

“Thank you,” he said primly, and then kicked open the door.

The base, as expected was empty. This was bad for them because they really needed that information, but good because it meant the people shooting ships out of the sky were gone and they could be picked up and didn’t have to trek through the desert again.

Nureyev made the call and Juno listened half-heartedly, distracted by mindlessly fiddling with the controls of the ship.

“We’ll be there soon,” Buddy told them. There was a strange muffled sound in the background of the comms call, and when she spoke again she sounded a little stressed, “we ran into something unexpected, but don’t fret we’ll be down to pick you both up within the hour.”

Well, that was incredibly vague. “What sort of thing?” Juno asked suspiciously, but Buddy had already hung up.

When their ride did come both of them are eager to get on board and wash the grit and dirt that had tried its hardest to engrain itself into their skin. When Nureyev took off his shoes he tipped them upside down, and a small mountain of sand falls from each shoe. Juno snorted, and Nureyev looked up and winked – sweaty and dirty and still looking like a beautifully unattainable, like an image in a dream.

Thankfully, Rita arrived in the next moment and saved Juno from doing something dumb, like suggesting he and Nureyev share a shower in the name of saving water.

“Hey Mistah Steel! Hey Mistah Man!” She looked like she’s positively brimming with restrained energy, practically buzzing on the spot with eyes alight with glee.

“Hello, Rita dear,” Nureyev grimaced. He’d been trying to convince Rita to just call him Mr. Ransom or at the very least Peter with zero luck. After calling him Mistah Rex-Ransom-Glass-Man one too many times despite Nureyev ever quieting protests that he had no idea who that Mr Glass was, she’d given up and labelled him Mr Man until he either gave up his real name or chose one that wasn’t less authentic than her knock-off designer shoes.

Watching the play of expressions of Nureyev’s face when she had said this, hands on hips and raising a brow as she stared up at the spluttering man nearly twice her height had made Juno’s entire week.

“Hey Rita, what’s got you all excited for? I didn’t forget about some important event again, did I?” Juno asked, trepidation settling in his stomach.

She waved him off, “This ain’t nothing like you’re thirty-third birthday boss, don’t you worry. But you gotta come see.” She spun on her heel and hurried away without waiting for a response.

“If you’re even mentioning my thirty-third birthday I feel like I should be afraid.” Juno said dryly.

“Nonsense boss,” Rita chirped, “besides, what good birthday doesn’t end with the bomb squad and HCPD arriving?”

“You forgot about the infectious disease control.”

“Oh yeah, that one was my bad, sorry Mr Steel. But how was I to know the caterers I hired were also the ones behind that murder you were trying to solve? It all worked out in the end anyways. Now come on, you don’t want to leave Ms Buddy waiting.” She trundled off into the depths of the ship.

“Wait, Rita – ugh.” Juno denied the fondness in his face as he rolled his eyes and follows after her. “You coming Nureyev?”

“Yes, of course.” Nureyev walked on ahead with a graceful stride, only to stop in the doorway to the lounge area abruptly, sending Juno careening into his back and sending them both stumbling forward.

“What the hell, Nureyev?” Juno groused, rubbing his nose.

The man didn’t reply and a piercing wail filled the air. Alarmed, Juno stepped around the still frozen thief and then blinked. And blinked again. And then he rubbed his eyes just to be sure of what he was seeing.

“That’s a baby,” Juno said dumbly.

Vespa sent him a scathing look, “Oh, I hadn’t noticed.”

She was standing several feet away from the aforementioned baby, hands over her ears to block out the crying it was emitting.

Buddy was cradling the child, looking the least composed he had ever seen her. The small, wriggling human in her arms continues to deafen the room with its wails, even as she awkwardly jiggled it up and down. Rita was hovering nearby, practically beaming, and Juno shuddered to think of someone with that much chaotic energy holding a child.

“She won’t stop crying.” Buddy said.

“I always thought you’d be good with children,” Juno remarked, inching closer to spot a chubby face, red from the exertion of crying its tiny lungs out.

“I am good with children,” Buddy corrected, in a tone that implied that anyone who thinks otherwise best not give their opinion, “just not this child, apparently.”

Juno tutted and before he let himself think too deeply on it, he reached forward and scooped up the child into his arms. He cradled them against his chest and gently rocked back and forth, shushing them. After a few moments the child quieted into sniffles and Juno became increasingly aware of everyone’s eyes on him.

“What?” he said defensively.

Buddy blinked out of her stupor, “Nothing darling, I just hadn’t expected you to know how to hold a child, let alone calm one down so efficiently.” He could almost see her adding to her bank of information about him, in case she needed to know later.

“Oh, no,” Rita piped up, “Boss is great with kids! He tries to act all gruff and _grrr_ but around kids he just melts. And oh, you should have seen this one time we had a case that involved these twin girls, and I thought Mistah Steel was just going to straight up adopt them he was so worried.”

Juno winced, remembering that case. Twin siblings in a bad home had hit far too close to home and he’d refused to let the case go until they had found somewhere safer to live. And if he still bribed Rita with salmon snacks to check up on them every now and again, it was no one’s business but his own.

“I don’t think anyone wants to hear about my past cases, Rita,” Juno sighed, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable at the knowing look that crept into Buddy’s eye.

“On the contrary, Juno, I find the topic quite scintillating. It’s not every day you find out that a rough and tumble detective has more to him than expected.” Nureyev has moved from the doorway and peers at the bundle in Juno’s arms, “and now who might this be?” he asked, speaking over Juno’s grumble about no longer being a detective.

“This is Miller. They’re the child of the people you two went to go meet,” she told them matter-of-factly.

“What.” Juno deadpanned.

“Pardon my confusion,” Nureyev interjected, voice deceptively light “but if you knew that there weren’t going to be anyone on the ship, then why did we have to trek through a desert for several hours?”

Unbothered by Nureyev’s passive aggressiveness as always, she only laughed. “Oh, of course I didn’t know at the time. Don’t be ridiculous Ransom, it doesn’t suit you.”

Nureyev’s eye twitched.

“Okay,” Juno interrupted hurriedly, “Are you going to give us an actual explanation or just keep being cryptic?”

“Juno, who do you take me for, of course I’m going to tell you everything.” Buddy soothed, and then launches into an explanation.

What had happened was this: Buddy and Jet had gone to check out the other lead at the same time Juno and Peter were getting sand in their shoes. The people they were looking for where some of the last standing producers of pharmaceruticals that didn’t fall inline with the big companies and went out of their way to provide help for the less fortunate. Naturally, the more powerful companies hadn’t liked that very much. Jet and Buddy had arrived just inside to see the couple be dragged from their homes, one hopefully just unconscious and the other screaming that their baby was still inside. The people doing the dragging hadn’t seemed to care that much about that, and within minutes the whole group had disappeared into the stomach of a ship and disappeared.

Buddy and Jet couldn’t leave the baby in good consciousness and had taken a little time to do a little snooping through the house while they were there. But the place had been trashed and now they still didn’t have the information they needed and they had a baby in tow. It seemed a rescue mission was in order.

“So what now?” Nureyev asked, “I can only assume you have a plan for caring for the child?” He said ‘child’ like it was an alien object that might attack the minute he turned his back on it.

“Well, you and Juno are going to look after them, of course.”

“Hang on a minute – “

“I’m sorry I thought you should said _we_ would –” 

Juno and Nureyev spoke over the top of each other.

“You heard me.” Buddy said, perfectly pleasantly, overriding their protests, “breaking into a secure base to steal _people_ isn’t our usual style so I’ll need Vespa and Buddy with me inside, and Rita to deal with all the security systems. Anyway, my dears, it will only be for a week.”

“A _week_?” Juno near yelled. Millie makes a discontented sound and he takes a minute to rock her gently, glaring at Buddy instead. “Please tell me your joking.”

“Well, we can’t leave them to fend for themselves, can we?” Buddy’s voice is pragmatic and calm. The complete opposite of Peter and Juno, who were looking equally horrified.

“Surely, there’s another option.” Peter said smoothly, his smile one that could tempt a king into give up his crown, “Perhaps, I could come along and someone else could stay behind?”

“Hey,” Juno protested, “If I’m going to have to be here then so do you.”

“Oh? Do you control where and when I can go places now? I didn’t know we had reached that part of our relationship.” His words were cutting and cold, and Juno flinched back from them automatically.

“Don’t talk to Mistah Steel that way!” Rita intervened, hands on her hips. “It’s not his fault, and you shouldn’t be taking it out on him.”

“I concur.” Buddy sid, “there really is no need for those kinds of comments. I wouldn’t take you as the kind of person to abandon a child, Ransom.”

Peter looked a little cowed. “I apologise, Juno. I simply wasn’t expected to be relegated from master thief to babysitter today.” He ran a hand over his hair, and a handful of sand shakes loose. Juno felt there is more going unsaid, but he’d long since lost the privilege to ask. If he had to guess though, it would have to do with Mag, and the streets and all the issues that a young Peter Nureyev had to deal with.

Peter’s hand was trembling a little when it fell back to his side.

“It’s ah –" Juno busied himself with shifting Millie into one arm and using his free hand to run it down one squishy baby cheek, so he didn’t have to meet anyone’s eyes. He couldn’t deny the warm feeling in his chest of how quick Buddy and Vespa were to defend him, and Peter to apologise. Millie gurgled happily. “It’s fine.”

Nureyev sighed, and the tension in the room dissipates a little.

“Now, if you’re done all of your arguing, we’ll be leaving shortly. We’re just waiting for Jet to return.”

“Who said I was done arguing?” Juno asked, just to be contrary.

Vespa shifted on her feet, “I did. I can’t believe how whiny you both are.”

In a moment of incredible maturity, Juno stuck his tongue out at her at the same moment Peter crossed his arms and turned his head away.

She threw her hands up, “You’re both just proving my point. I’m grabbing my stuff and waiting by the car.” She stalked from the room without another word. Buddy watched her leave, a fond smile twitching at her lips.

“Rita, you can go get packed up as well, dear.”

“Okay!” Rita chirped. She paused before leaving and looks at Juno. Her eyes were a little searching when they flick between him and the baby and he wondered what she sees. For a split second he wondered if he looked like his mother before he crushed the thought ruthlessly.

“Call me if you need me, Mr Steel,” is all she said.

He smiled a little, “Thanks Rita, I will.”

With weary resignation, Juno knew he was going to be looking after Miller for the coming week; from the slump in Nureyev’s shoulders, he seemed to be realising the same.

“We’re really not the most child-friendly people Buddy, us criminals never are. Are you certain this is the best course of action.” Nureyev seemed to be giving a last-ditch effort to change her mind.

“You may surprise yourself, Pete. And it’s only for a week, it’s not like I’m asking you to adopt the child.” Buddy looked amused at his attempts.

“We don’t have any baby supplies,” Juno blurted out.

“Oh,” Peter perked up a little, “yes, exactly. We can’t possibly care for a child without the necessary equipment, you understand.”

“Of course, I understand darlings, that’s why I sent Jet out earlier to get everything you might need.”

“How kind of you,” Peter said, not meaning a word of it.

As if on queue, Jet entered the room. Each arm was loaded down with bags of what must be the aforementioned baby supplies. He placed it all down onto the ground carefully and straightened back up. “I have returned,” he told Buddy.

“There, see?” Buddy said, a smirk twitching at her mouth, “Everything you could possibly need.”

Miller made a face and squirmed in Juno’s arms. A second later, a foul smell filled the air.

Buddy wrinkled her nose. “Now, we really should be off. Juno, Ransom, I trust you will not disappoint me with this.”

Then she and Jet departed and it was just the three of them. Juno still cradling the baby; Peter hovering nearby with his arms crossed looking remarkably unsure of himself, and Millie, who was looking extremely pleased with themselves.

“Oh, that is gross.” Juno said, wide-eyed, holding Millie out in front of him. He looked around and his eyes met Peter’s. He held the baby out and Peter recoiled so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to get away.

“I think I better leave this one to your expertise Juno,” Peter’s voice was a touch higher than usual, “I’m going to get some of the food Jet brought packed away, wouldn’t want it to go to waste, of course! And shower while I’m at it, I have sand in very uncomfortable places Juno, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to suffer any longer.”

“Nureyev—” Juno groaned, but Peter snatched up the bags in questions and scurried out of the room without another word.

Juno stared down at Millie, “You sure know how to clear a room, kid.”

-

A while later, and with several false starts, Juno had managed to find everything he needed and Millie crawls along the floor, fresh and in a clean diaper while he discarded of the used one with a final disgusted grimace.

Peter, perhaps sensing the danger had passed, slipped back into the room. His hair looked freshly washed and was still damp, flopping gently onto his forehead. It’s a tiny break from the polished and proper man that Peter Ransom embodies.

“Is it all right, to leave them just wandering around doing their own thing like that?” Millie noticed him and changes course, crawling determinedly over to him. Reaching out with one tiny hand, they gripped his pant leg and crows triumphantly.

“Not alone probably. But we’re here watching them so it’s fine. We should probably make sure there’s no weapons where little hands could reach them though, I can’t have this turning out like that Kanagawa episode where they gave a baby a flamethrower.”

“They gave the baby a _what_?” Peter asked before being side-tracked by Miller using the grip on his pants as leverage to stand up on wobbly legs. They stuck their hand in their mouth, and then smeared their spit covered fingers over Peter’s pants.

Peter’s face twitched. “Those are silk,” he told the baby, a touch testily, “Made by the same person who tailors the Queen of Neptune’s ball gowns. Irreplaceable, I’d go as far to say.” He stared imploringly down at the child, but Millie only giggled.

“Aren’t you popular,” Juno remarked.

“Juno, can’t you… I don’t know, do something? Tell it to sit and stay away from my really rather expensive clothes?”

Juno frowned, “Millie isn’t a pet.”

“Millie?” Peter questioned, “I didn’t realise you were the nickname-giving type. Here I thought you only used them when undercover.” Juno got the oddest feeling that he was vaguely offended that he had never been offered a nickname outside of his Juno’s half-hearted usage of ‘honey’ and ‘toots.’

“I guess it just has to be the right person,” Juno shrugged, he hadn’t given it much thought.

Peter said, “Hm,” and nothing else. Juno couldn’t be bothered to try and decode whatever that meant.

Millie, apparently displeased with the attention no longer being on them, took to chewing on Peter’s pants. The man made a pained noise, reaching down but not touching, hand hovering over the child. “Miller, I implore you to release your mouth from my pants.”

“Nnnuh.” Millie said and then returned to their endeavour. Peter frowned.

“Perhaps we can come to an agreement,” he tried, “I’m sure there are much better things for you to chew on and I can find them for you if you let go.”

Millie didn’t respond.

Watching Peter attempt to negotiate with a baby made a chuckle slip from Juno’s mouth before he could stop it. And then another, until he was giggling helplessly at the sight.

Peter’s head snapped up to stare at him, eyes round and mouth falling open in shock, “Are you laughing at me?”

Juno just shook his head, a smile still hovering at the corner of his mouth.

Peter mouth twitched in response, “While I’m glad to bring you entertainment Juno, may I request a rescue perhaps?”

“Millie is probably just hungry, or teething.” Juno told him, choosing to take pity on the thief and scooped Miller back into his arms and out of reach of Nureyev’s silk pants. “It’s probably time to get you fed, huh?” They kicked their feet and Juno choosed to take that as an agreement.

\--

“You’re good with them,” Peter said softly some ten minutes later. He leaned against the bench in the kitchen, watching Juno with an unrecognisable look in his eyes.

“Hm?” Juno looked up from where he had Millie cradled securely in one arm, the other holding the bottle tipped just right; Millie’s chubby fingers coming up to grasp out at it as they drink.

“With Millie,” he waved one hand through the air, “you’re a natural.”

Juno’s mouth twisted like it was torn between smiling and frowning. His eyes flicked up briefly and then settled firmly on the little body in his arms. “It’s not hard. I just think about whatever my mother would have done, and then do the opposite. Pretty simple method, really.” There was a false lightness to his tone.

“I see,” Peter said, in lieu of what else to respond, “I didn’t mean to bring up anything sensitive Juno, I apologise.”

Juno shook his head but still didn’t look up, “It’s okay, I don’t mind you knowing. Besides, it’s not like I can avoid thinking about it. I still can’t accept what she did to me, to _us_ , but I can learn from it.”

Juno pulled the empty bottle away and slung a rag over his shoulder, holding Millie carefully and patting her back gently.

“How do you know what to do?” Peter asked abruptly. He studied Juno and Millie together like a puzzle he can’t quite solve. “Is there… a manual or something for the residents of Hyperion City?”

Juno looked bemused. “A baby manual?”

Peter straightened his shoulders and did his best to look dignified. “Yes, a baby manual. Or a class, perhaps. It would explain how both you are Rita seem to know exactly what to do,” he insisted, even as the tips of his ears turn red.

Juno was staring at him like he was building pieces of a puzzle in his mind. It makes Peter feel uncomfortable, as if Juno was seeing beneath his impeccable makeup and tailored clothes and careful words, and seeing that he still bleeds as red as everybody else. It’s enough to make any criminal want to immediately book the first ticket to the other side of the galaxy.

Then again, Juno had always been able to read him.

“Nureyev, do you have any experience with kids at all?”

Peter refused to look embarrassed, “Living as a thief isn’t exactly the kind of life that enables indulging in domesticity outside of a long con, perhaps. Nor do I tend to stay in one place very long. It’s perfectly understandable that one would have no experience in the particulars the are involved with child care.”

“Would you like to hold them?” Juno offered Millie but Peter pressed back into the bench and cleared his throat as he avoided eye contact.

“One can’t simply enter a mission without knowing all the details,” Peter insisted, “it would be reckless of me to dive into the situation without having studied the layout, the exits, the risk level. I can’t possibly hold the child.”

“It’s a baby, not a bomb.”

Peter didn’t feel entirely convinced. In fact, he thought he’d be much more comfortable if it _was_ a bomb.

“Later,” he said, “when I’m wearing clothes not worth half the price of this ship, perhaps.” As if he owns anything else.

-

Later, seemed to be a time Peter was avoiding pretty strongly. That’s not to say he didn’t help out, he was more than happy – or at least not totally unwilling – to help get Millie’s food ready, get any manner of things Juno requested, warm up a tub full of water to wash them in, and so on. Anything and everything that didn’t involve actually having to hold the child in their care.

Juno would turn around to hand Millie off and he would have vanished in between one second and the next. Juno really should have expected the argument that night.

“Now hang on a mo –“

“I really must insist –“

“Don’t think you can get out of this easily –“

“ _Juno,_ ” Peter stressed, “as has become clear, child-minding has never been a skillset I had deemed any need or interest to learn. Miller is a baby and I do not trust my expertise to care for them should any needs arise overnight. Thus, the child should sleep in your room.”

Juno sighed, defeated. He’d never been so singularly focused on caring for a child for so long and his mind was already eager for a break, only some twelve or so hours in. That said, Peter did have a point. “Okay, but you have to clean the next five diapers you’re awake for.”

Peter’s face twitched in displeasure. “Two.”

“Four,” Juno countered.

“Three,” Peter said.

“Fine,” Juno said, throwing up his hands.

“Fine,” Peter agreed and spun on his heal and disappeared down the corridor.

Juno watched him go for a beat too long, then hastily worked on setting up the crib in his room that Jet had so helpfully provided. Afterwards he stared at it, traced his fingers along the grooves of the bars, and tried to remember if he and his brother had ever had a crib like this, if there had been two or they had shared.

He shook his head to rid himself of the memories and went about getting Millie and himself for bed. Millie yawned, and smacked her lips, eyes dropping with every breath. It was a feeling Juno could relate to right now.

Settling Millie down in the crib besides the bed, Juno smiles, just for a moment.

Maybe this parenting thing wasn’t so hard after all. He could totally do this.

-

He could _not_ do this.

Juno was tired, so very, very tired. He swayed on his feet as he walked, even as his arms cradled Millie close to his bare chest. He rocked them gently, but they continued to fuss, crying and sniffling into the blanket they were swathed in.

“It’s okay little baby, sleep time now,” Juno said, feeling vaguely delirious. He had been awake for far too many hours, and it was some ridiculous hour in the morning, but Millie refused to settle. He suspected they miss their parents, and Juno would totally sympathise, or at least try to, except he’d been up for longer than twenty-four hours and he wanted to _rest_.

He reached his destination and knocked, and knocked, and continues knocking until the door opened and Peter Nureyev stood there, hair and clothes askew and looking like he’d just woken up. That meant he’d gotten some sleep, the bastard. 

“Juno, what – is Millie okay?” He looked warm and soft from sleep, vulnerable in a way that Juno didn’t get the privilege of seeing anymore, and he really would appreciate the momentary glimpse, after he’d gotten some rest.

“Take her,” Juno thrusted the baby at him, careful not to jostle her too much. 

Nureyev looked flustered, “Oh, I really don’t think –“ 

“Nureyev,” Juno said. He didn’t know if it was his dead eyed stare or what, but when Nureyev looked at him he only hesitated a few seconds more before taking Millie into his arms. 

Juno let himself reach out and touch the man, nudging his arms into the correct positions and when he was satisfied that Nureyev wasn’t about to drop the baby any time soon he took two steps forward and face-planted onto Nureyev’s sheets. He was snoring in seconds.

Nureyev blinked, looked at Juno passed out in his bed, and back down to the baby. Millie smacked their lips and reached one tiny hand up towards him.

“Well then, I guess it’s just you and me now.”


	2. Days 2 to 3.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Juno settle more into their new pseudo-parent roles, but old hurts are not so easily forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two!! Yay!! A bit shorter than the last one but still decent.
> 
> The art in this chapter is so beautiful I nearly cried. It's by the lovely Ella, who you can find on instagram @distressedcitrus or you can find on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/milkymeteor). 
> 
> Warning: this chapter gets a bit angsty towards the end, and if you're worried you can check at the end notes for the details.

It wasn’t not that he didn’t like babies. Babies were fine.

A little too breakable perhaps, and lacking in intellect, but that will change with time; time spent not near Peter preferably. If pressed, he might compare looking after a baby to being forced to spend time with an acquaintance who you’re actually not that keen to get to know.

Having relegated to the couch as to not wake Juno – although whether even the ship crashing into an asteroid could wake him at the moment is debatable – and now held baby Millie in his arms and Peter Nureyev won’t admit to much about himself, but he can admit to being completely out of his depth.

Still, there was a certain appeal to the warm weight in his arms, and to curious eyes gazing up at him, completely trusting in a way that no one else really was. Not towards him.

Millie had their hand in their mouth, no doubt drooling all over their fingers in a way that could not be sanitary.

Peter tutted, gently pulling her hand away from their mouth, “too many germs, little one. God knows what’s on the floor of this ship you seem to like crawling across so much.”

Millie responded to this by slapping their palm – gross, slobbery fingers and all – right onto Peter’s face.

He twitched.

“A sneak attack,” he said evenly, “you would make a good thief.”

Millie warbled back at him, looking pleased. Then, their face screwed up and a foul smell permeated the air.

Peter sighed, “Now you’re just not playing fair.”

Cleaning diapers was not something he had ever thought he would need to learn. Not a typical weapon in a master thief’s arsenal, to be sure. Unless, for some reason or another he had a need to pose as a babysitter perhaps. But after only a day or this, Peter had a feeling he might pass on any such missions should they arise.

Still, Juno had forced him to learn yesterday, citing that he refused to be the only one dealing with the mess. With only a few mishaps, and a disgusted grimace, he managed to dispose of the dirty diaper and replace it with a new one. He dressed Millie back into their onesie, and gentle caught their tiny clothed feet as they kicked the air.

Millie wriggled on the bench and reached up with equally tiny hands. Peter eased the child into their arms and cradled them against his chest. A thought long-relagated for future consideration brushed against the edges of his mind.

Had his parents ever held him like this? How long had they kept him around before he’d found himself on the streets? Had they ever lo–

Some things were best unanswered.

“Now that’s dealt with,” He told Millie, shoving the thoughts back down from where they came, “let’s see what entertainment Jet left for you, hm?”

-

When Juno woke it was not in his bed. This was not an altogether unusual experience for him, but it was certainly the first time it had happened since he decided to be a universe-travelling criminal.

He squinted around the room, it looked similar to his own but something wasn’t quite right. Memories of the previous name slammed back into his head when he caught sight of a dressed lined with makeup and other products. _Oh,_ Juno thought, _fuck._

After he got over his slight heart attack at the realisation he was in _Nureyev’s_ bed, he managed to drag himself out of the room and toward the scent of coffee in the air, even as fatigue weighed down his limbs. If there was first a moment where he lingered, sinking in the sheets scented with a familiar cologne, then no one would ever know.

Unless, of course, Peter had set up cameras in his room. This thought led to another minor heart attack before he came to the executive decision to never ask. There were some things he didn’t want to know.

“Now let’s be reasonable about this,” Peter’s voice filtered down the hallway before he entered the kitchen.

“Na!” Millie said in response.

“Now that’s not being very diplomatic at all,” Peter chided gently.

Millie was settled into the crook of Peter’s arm, and was steadfastly ignoring her bottle. She was whining, not quite crying yet, but tears were beading at the corner of their eyes.

“Oh no, don’t cry again,” Peter fretted, setting the bottle aside to hold Millie more firmly when he rocked them back and forth, “If you don’t want food, what do you want?”

“Probably her parents,” Juno said, stepping into the room.

Peter’s head jerked up, “Juno! I didn’t realise you were awake. I hope it wasn’t Millie’s crying that woke you.”

Juno shrugged, he wasn’t sure what had woken him up, given he still felt so tired but he didn’t want Peter to feel bad if it had been Millie. “I’m fine.”

“You still look tired. Not quite as bad as last night of course, but you could certainly do for a few more hours.” Peter was looking a little too wide-eyed himself. He wondered how many hours the other man had got before Juno had come banging on his door.

“That’s what coffee is for,” Juno said. “And, sorry about, um, last night.” Juno shuffled over the coffee maker and started brewing a new pot, half because he needed at least four cups if he was going to make it through another day of babysitting, and half because he didn’t want to meet Peter’s eyes.

“I’ll forgive you as long as you make me a cup as well,” Peter said wryly.

Juno snorted. “Done.”

-

The day dragged on.

To say that both of them were used to getting the bare minimum of sleep, and often a hell of a lot less than that, would be an understatement. One or two disrupted nights should be just one more drop in the bucket that they could push through without issues. Yet, a weary bone-deep exhaustion curled heavy in their bodies.

Juno could barely keep his eyes open, despite already have downed three mugs of coffee and steadily makes his way through a fourth. He yawned, sleepy and unguarded.

Peter lacked the energy and time that goes into the entirety of his morning routine. Only bothering with light makeup, though his outfit was still delightfully over the top. But here, feeling unguarded and sleepy-eyed, for the first time upon the Carte Blanche he felt like Peter Ransom had retreated and a more honest Peter Nureyev had slipped his way to the surface without him realising.

A rattling sound distracted him, and he saw Millie standing in the playpen – one hand gripping the soft net material and the other tiny fist clenched around some rudimentary plastic toy. Millie babbled at them both, a stream of nonsensical syllables.

Juno entertained them with toys for a while. A weariness filled his actions though, that grew with every passing moment, even as he gazed down at Millie with a soft smile that Peter saw so rarely.

“How about we go into the lounge and watch something? I’m sure there’s some child-friendly streams that will keep Millie entertained enough,” Peter suggested before he could himself.

Juno shrugged, “Sure, why not.”

It was Juno’s snoring that let him in on the fact everyone had given up on watching the children’s stream not even fifteen minutes in. Peter might have dozed off in the armchair for a few minutes; he wasn’t sure. In a bitter moment of self-loathing he remembered the days where he could stay awake for days on end, barely moving and waiting for the perfect moment of opportunity.

Now all it took was one disrupted night and he was falling asleep in public spaces and leaving himself vulnerable. On a mission, that could be a death sentence.

He didn’t dwell on it though, instead strangely captivated by the rise of fall of Juno’s chest – on which rests Millie, curled up and likewise sleeping, with one strong arm securing her in place even in his sleep.

It was an oddly domestic sight, so unexpected the shock of it set his heart pounding.

Juno was still snoring, and his mouth was hanging open just a little, and his head tilted back against the back of the couch. Altogether, it wasn’t the most attractive he’d seen the ex-detective, not by a long shot.

Yet, in his hands he still held Millie, hands firm and sure even while asleep. Millie too, seemed to have succumbed to resting, nestled against the warmth of Juno’s chest.

Millie’s hair and skin were only a few shades lighter than Juno’s. They could almost be related, looking at the two of them together.

It was far too easy to imagine a scenario where Juno was curled up on the couch, asleep with a child of his own, and perhaps with someone to watch over the two while they slept. Someone Juno would trust enough to protect the two of them, to raise a child with, to love and to –

Peter swallowed and stood. If he wasn’t going to nap, he might as well take the time to check in with Buddy and see how the search for the parents were going.

(When Juno woke up an hour later, it was to a baby chewing his shirt and a blanket laid gently over him while he slept.)

-

“So,” Juno said, with an awkward cough, “do we just… do it?”

“Do… _it_?”

“Yeah, you know. Get it over with. Jump in with both arms or whatever.”

“I’m not certain you’ve used that phrase correctly Juno, but I suppose the message was clear enough anyway.”

“And?”

“And I agree, though might I suggest putting Millie to sleep first?”

Juno looks down at the baby in his arms and blinked, as if only just realising they were there. “You mean you don’t want to share with the both of us?”

Peter looked down at the double bed and back to Juno, one eyebrow raised. “One unexpected guest in my bed is more than enough, I think.”

“Right.” Juno guided Millie down until they are lying in the cot, still fast asleep and sucking idly on their thumb. He ran a gentle hand over the baby’s head, “Night kid.”

He turned back, and his gentle expression was immediately replaced with trepidation as he stared down the bed.

Peter cleared his throat and made the first move, slipping onto the bed and sliding under the covers. “Be a dear and turn out the lights when you join me.”

“Right, right,” Juno muttered under his breath, “This is perfectly normal. We’re just sharing the bed for the baby’s sake. Just for the baby.”

The placid expression on Peter’s face twitched, “If you find the idea of sharing a bed with me so odious, you are more than welcome to sleep on the floor.”

Chastised, Juno flips off the light and clambered into the free side of the bed. He laid down, head resting on the pillow and feeling uncomfortably aware of the warmth of a body only a few inches to his right.

Juno fidgeted a little, the rustle of the sheets sounding deafening in the otherwise silent room. He froze, lest he annoy Peter further. On his side of the bed, Peter lay utterly still and decidedly did not turn towards Juno, stifling down the urge to reach across the scant space between them.

It had been over a year since they had both shared a bed. The memories filled up the space between them, weighing down against their skin and refusing to let them think of anything else. The silence in the room is stifling yet neither dared to break it. Neither wished to address the elephant in the room.

Juno’s guilt ate him from the inside as he recalled slipping out from between the sheets and leaving before the sun had even kissed the horizon. He thought of the way his name had sounded on Peter’s lips, spoken like silk, gasped in the throes of pleasure, whispered gently across the pillows just as they were now.

The minutes tick by and two pairs of eyes stare up at the ceiling contemplating everything that might have been that night and everything that wasn’t.

“You think too loud,” Peter said eventually, “The whole point of us sharing a bed was to get lose, not to lose even more. If it’s too uncomfortable –“

“It’s not uncomfortable. “Juno blurted out.

Peter swallowed, “No?”

“Well, I could do without the awkward silence and the paltry attempts to avoid bringing up the thing we’re both thinking about, but lying next to you isn’t… bad or anything.”

“Hm. Could have fooled me.” His tone was just shy of cutting and Juno winced.

“Do you want me to apologise again? Is that it?” Juno gave up staring upwards and rolled onto his side to stare at the silhouette beside him, “because I will. As many times as it takes.”

“No you’ve already said your piece.”

“Then what, Nureyev? What can I do?”

Peter sighed and rolled to face away from Juno, “Right now? You can’t wash the past away as easily as blood on your hands, Juno. This is something that is becoming unfortunately obvious. Right now, you can let me get some rest.”

Juno swallowed past the lump in this throat. “That’s it then? We just shrug our shoulders and try to forget it ever happened? News flash Ransom, it did happen and if we keep treating it as some big secret, it’s never going to get better.”

“So you’ve said, but we really don’t need to keep rehashing over the past.”

“Clearly we do, if you still can’t look me in the eye. I hurt you, Nur – Ransom. I’m not trying to pretend I didn’t. But I’ve learnt that bottling things up doesn’t make it go away, it just means you spend more time hurting.” Juno’s voice rose at the end, and Millie woke with a start, her cry ringing out in the room.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Peter sniffed.

“Oh yeah, blame it all on me and not on your total inability to have a serious conversation for once in your goddamn life,” Juno scoffed.

“When I told you my name, was that not serious? When I begged you to let me in when you locked yourself in a room with Miasma and a bomb, was that not serious? When _I told you I loved you_ , what was that serious enough for the great detective Steel?” Each word was cold and so cutting it felt like a physical blow.

“Nureyev you know that’s not what I mean,” Juno sighed.

Peter sat up abruptly, knees drawing up to his chest. “I guess it wasn’t, since you still left in the middle of the night like I was a mindless fling!”

Juno flinched back as if struck, and pulled himself into a sitting position as well. One hand reached towards Peter, then dropped. “That’s not—”

Peter slipped out of bed and scooped Millie up into his arms. She curled into his chest, still crying. “I’ll handle Millie, so feel free to stay here and get some rest.” His voice was clipped and even, not a trace of the emotional outburst he had just had.

“Wait, hang on. Just let me talk,” Juno said, struggling to stand up as well but was delayed by the sheets tangling around his legs.

“I think we’ve done more than enough of that for one night,” Peter said, and exited the room. The door slid shut behind him.

Juno slumped back into the pillows and pressed his hands over his eyes. “Shit.”

-

The next morning was awkward to say the least. But Peter hadn’t been bested by knives, empty beds, or even one unfortunate incident involving three tigers, a laser and a furious weasel, so he could get through a little awkwardness.

Juno kept staring at him with those wide, guilty eyes of his, no doubt wanting to apologise for the catastrophe of the night before. He looked as tired as Peter felt, dark bruises stamped under his eyes, and a heaviness to the way he moved his limbs.

To be perfectly honest, as angry as he was the previous night, there was a modicum of… embarrassment growing in his chest. He had lost his temper, let his emotions spill out from the tightly capped bottle he usually kept them in.

How terribly unlike him, to speak so emotionally, hurts he thought he had buried bubbling to the surface before he could stop them. Peter blamed the lack of sleep. He spent the morning curtly dismissing Juno’s attempts to talk to him, lest he fall into another bout of foolish sentimental ramblings.

He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

-

Of course, trying to have any sort of stonewalled declaration – even internal ones – was impossible when Juno managed to trip all over them and send them crashing down around Peter’s ears and was likely too busy shaking the dust from his hair to even notice.

In any case, it didn’t exactly excuse the screaming match he’d found himself drawn into. He doesn’t even know what started it. One snide comment, followed by a sarcastic retort, which was then challenged with a cutting rhetorical question, and the next thing he knew he was here.

“I don’t know why you seem so convinced you mean anything at all to me anymore. Why would I care for a pathetic washed-up detective-turned-thief!” He snarled.

Millie started to cry at the loud tone. Peter made a note to deal with them in a second, as long as Juno didn’t –

“Oh right,” Juno scoffed, “because you’re all unfeeling and all serious thief, Peter _Ransom_.” He spat the last word. His hands were bawled at his sides, an angry red flush across his cheeks. Emotion written in every whisper of his being, even when he shouted.

Peter on the other-hand was all about _control_. He stood straight-backed, with his chin tilted up high, sneering down at Juno. Perfectly composed.

Millie cried harder, tiny fists beating the side of the play plan.

“Yes, Peter Ransom. Because I can move on from the past, and not act like a whiny little child who didn’t get the toy he wanted. Sorry,” he spat, “you don’t get to play, not after you broke the last one.”

Mostly composed.

“For someone who talks big about moving on, you seem pretty stuck in the past. I apologised for that already! What more do you _want?”_ Juno shouted.

They were both too tired for this conversation; too frustrated. Neither was willing to back down and the fatigue had stolen away his inhibitions and left him raw. Each word flung was only pouring salt on the wound but every time Juno spoke his anger bubbled up and words spewed from his mouth.

Millie started wailing, the sound piercing into his skull but not shaking the red filling his vision.

“ _I want you to leave me alone!”_

Millie howled.

Juno rounded on the child, “God will you just _shut up!_ ”

Silence descended in the room as sudden as thunder striking the ground. Juno clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide and horrified. A moment later Millie began to wail again, louder this time, nearly drowning out Juno’s quiet whispers.

“—No, no no. I’m not like her. I’m not – oh, god.”

Peter strode over and scooped Millie into his arms, shushing her gently. His gaze turned to Juno, cold and icy. “Are you happy now?”

Juno didn’t say anything. His eyes were wide, all traces of anger had gone and left him looking deflated. He looked up at Peter, and he looked terrified. Of himself. Tears beaded up at the corners of Juno’s eyes and he staggered back a few steps.

“Wait – Juno!”

He fled.

“Damn it.”

Peter rocked Millie in his arms, shushing her gently. “I’m sorry, little one. I didn’t mean to shout. Juno didn’t mean it, either. Shh, shh. It’s all going to be okay.”

He felt awful. His throat stung from raising his voice, and a headache was forming behind his eyes, aided by Millie’s continued crying. Not that it was her fault. No, that was on him. He couldn’t resist trying to get another barb in, even when Juno had tried to fix things between them.

He was an idiot, telling Juno to move on when Peter was the one who never left.

“It’s going to be okay,” Peter repeated.

He had always been a good liar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Juno and Peter get into a fight about their past and Juno yells at Millie. He then becomes distressed about it and leaves.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter and I'll be back again in another two days.


	3. Days 3.5 to 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juno and Peter finally have a long overdue talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> You may notice the chapter count has gone from 4 to 5. Decided if I shoved everything in 4 chapters it wouldn't sit right, so 5 it is. 
> 
> I'm pretty happy with this chapter. Has a few lines I really liked writing in it so enjoy!
> 
> Oh also, I know that Peter told Juno to call him by his name after Man in Glass but that scene didn't happen in this fic, if that wasn't already clear.

Juno’s mind was consumed with long buried memories. Memories were beating at his skull, long buried moments were seemed to screaming, so loud that it vibrated through his very chest. He swayed and sunk to the ground, back pressed against a wall of a ship. Across from him was a porthole in front of him and he stared out at it, eyes blurring with tears.

He was trapped. Stuck thinking of his mother. Of the fear he felt in those moments. Of squeezing Benten’s hand when he started to cry. Of the childhood he could not stop remembering but always wanted to forget.

Memories of how the screams were only the beginning. Then there were bruised arms and hungry bellies. An awkward limp from being pushed down the stairs. A bloody nose or twelve. Having Benten stoke his hair on the bad nights, huddled close under the covers of a flimsy blanket. Wishing to be somewhere else, anywhere else.

He might have sat there for five minutes or it might have been several hours. His mind spun on an endless loop, like a ride that he couldn’t get off.

And god, he’s just like his mother now. Unable to hold his temper against a child. Just a defenceless kid who doesn’t know better. It’s not Millie’s fault. It’s _his._

_His, his, his, his—_

A touch to his shoulder had him flinching away. For a moment terror over road his senese and settled under his skin as his memories battered at his mind, and when he jerked his head around he half-expected to see his mother looming over him.

It was not his mother. Of course it wasn’t his mother, she was in prison, or probably long dead by now.

No, it was Peter. And he was offering a handkerchief, his expression drawn and solemn.

“What – ?” Juno’s voice cracked, and for the first time he realised he was crying. Tears dripping down his cheeks and dripping onto his knees where they were drawn up against his chest.

Peter settled delicately beside him, leaving a gap between them, without saying anything.

He took the handkerchief. He mopped at his face, and sniffled pathetically. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper, “Is Millie – ?”

“They’re fine,” Peter told him when Juno couldn’t bring himself to say anything else.

Juno picked up the bottle from where he’d snatched it up instinctively while searching for a dark corner to crawl into, and idly rolled it between his hands.

“Juno is that… whiskey? You haven’t been drinking have you?” There was a note of concern in his voice, not that Juno felt he deserved it right now.

Juno set the bottle back down. “No, I mean – yeah, it is. But I haven’t drank any of it. Didn’t need another reason to be like my mother today.”

From where he sat, a port whole lay in front of him, showcasing the stars as they drifted by. Each light twinkled gently at him.

“Juno…” Peter begun, his voice settling over Juno’s skin like well-worn shirt, soft to the touch.

“It’s funny,” Juno said abruptly, “we look out there and we see all those stars and how bright they shine and you feel like they’re gonna be around forever. Because some of them shine so bright you think there’s no way they could ever go out.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“Juno, what –”

“The thing is,” Juno continued over the top of him, “we don’t see the light from now. We’re seeing the light it once gave off however many lightyears ago, and that star might have already gone out. Maybe it’s been out for a long time. But we don’t know, how and when that light is gonna go out, until one day you might just blink and – and that’s it, that star will never shine again.”

Nureyev sighed. “That’s true enough, I suppose. Unpredictability is part of all of our lives, where we like it or not.”

Juno chanced a look and caught a wry smile crawling across his face before he shook his head and it fell. “And yes, stars go out, civilisations rise and fall, people die –” Juno flinched a little, “—and there’s nothing we can do about it. But Juno –”

Nureyev reached out. One hand caught another, gently interlocking their fingers and he brought it close to his chest. Closer still, so Juno could feel the steady thump of a beating heart, of Nureyev’s heart, under his hand.

“—Juno, don’t you think it’s better that the lights _did_ shine, however briefly, then never be seen at all?”

His eyes stung, and he squeezed them shut, and unintentionally squeezed Nureyev’s hand too. The man didn’t react other than to squeeze back, a little beacon in the darkness, a candlelight whispering _I am here_.

“You always were the optimist between the two of us.” If his voice was rough, at least Nureyev was kind enough not to mention it.

“Hardly a difficult position to take, knowing you,” he returned, features softening.

They sat side by side in companionable silence until Juno gained enough composure to pull his hand away and clear his throat awkwardly. Nureyev didn’t make any move to stop him, just watched with that unfortunately knowing gaze.

“Thanks Nureyev, I mean it.”

“Oh, no thanks necessary, detective.”

“Not a detective,” Juno reminded him, “And, I’m sorry. For what I said. It was mean, and I was angry, and I know that’s not an excuse, but I… yeah. I’m just sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Peter said simply and a little part of the tension lessened from his shoulders. “I must offer my own apology too. I’m aware I’ve been rather snippy, to say the least, and you’re right in that I do seem to be the one to keep dragging us through our rose-thorned path. I suppose I’m not as over our past interactions as much as I tried to make myself believe.”

He didn’t fidget, he wasn’t that sort of guy. If you saw his hands moving it was usually because he was robbing someone – likely you – of your possessions. But there was a tightness to his shoulders, the false lightness to his tone, that let Juno read between the lines.

“I don’t think either of us are,” Juno admitted, as if the admission didn’t make him want to go have a very quiet panic attack in his room.

“Hm,” Peter said, which told him exactly nothing. “A dangerous combination when one fights with the very person who knows far more of your pressure points than most. How about a deal then? While the situation is, well, far from ideal, I _would_ like to get to know this new not-detective Steel. Perhaps we could start as friends?”

_Start?_ Juno nearly blurted out but held his tongue just in time. _Where do you want to end?_

“I think that I’d like that Ransom.”

Peter’s hand tapped an unsteady rhythm on the floor beside him, “Are you _okay_ now?” He asked hesitantly.

Juno laughed, and the sound grated on his throat, “I don’t think I’ve been okay a day in my god damn life. But maybe I’m getting there,” He quirked a smile at the man.

Peter returned it warmly, “I’m glad to hear that, dear. We should, well, probably discuss what happened a little more though.”

Juno smile fell and he sighed, “Yeah. I yelled at Millie.”

“You did,” Peter said evenly, “While I won’t excuse your actions, I won’t condone you for them either. You made a mistake, what do you plan on doing now?”

“Being better,” Juno said immediately, “I don’t want to be the reason Millie cries. I don’t want her to be scared of me. I don’t want… _Fuck_ , I don’t want to be like my mother,” His voice wobbled at the end.

Peter scooted over a little until they were pressed together from shoulder to thigh. Heat radiated from the man and Juno shivered a little, hunching into himself more but not making any move to shift away.

When he spoke, Peter voice was soft but sure, “You are not like your mother, Juno. I admittedly never had parents when I was young, and when I was older I only had Mags – ” His voice faltered for a second, “ – but I have seen you with Millie, how you care for them, and if you were Millie’s actual parent, I would think that they were in good hands. No child of yours would ever grow up feeling uncared for or unloved by you.”

Juno sniffled and used the handkerchief to mop at his face. “Thank you. That means a lot, really,” He peaked up at him, “You’re not half-bad yourself either, you know.”

Peter laughed, “Please, Juno, we both have become very aware that child-minding is not a skill I find myself excelling in.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Juno said teasingly, “You only spilt the milk on yourself, what, two times, the first day? Or was it three?”

“I told you not to mention that,” Peter huffed, but his eyes twinkled with amusement.

Juno felt lighter. The shadows of the past not weighing so heavily down on his shoulders. He knew he had the man beside him to thank for that. He had Peter to thank for a lot of the good things in his life. He leant into his side a little harder.

-

The beginnings of a wail interrupted the quiet but companionable silence between them only a few minutes later. He didn’t have to be an expert in body language to see the way Juno frame went rigid with tension. The way his eyes filled with self-loathing and fear.

“I think someone is telling us it’s lunch time, hm?” Peter said with false lightness. “Up we go Juno, I still don’t recall the right measurements for the milk.” That was a lie, but a white one.

“I’m pretty sure the instructions are on the packet, Ranson,” Juno muttered, but it held none of his usual cheeky humour, the peace he’d found seemingly drained from him the second Millie started to cry again. Still, it seemed to be enough to get him up and staring towards the living room with trepidation.

“Come along now,” Peter encouraged, before dropping his voice to something a little lower and more sincere, “I think you’ll feel better after you hold them again.”

They made their way to Millie, together. Peter scooping them up from their playpen with now-practised arms as they cried plaintively. Juno hovered a step behind them, looking torn between reaching out and running away again.

Peter solved that problem for him by holding Millie out for him to take. Juno’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head and he stuttered through a refusal in what, in other circumstances, would be an amusing reversal of when he was first handed Millie.

Millie didn’t seem to hold any ill will towards Juno, much to both of their relief. They’re chubby arms reached outwards, fingers grasping at the space between them. Juno hands might have been shaking when he reached back, but when he told Millie more firmly into his arms his grip was sure and strong.

Juno ducked his head and pressed his face against the top of Millie’s head. If he heard sniffling, and the beginnings of whispers, well, he figured now was a good a time as any to start making lunch. After all, it seemed they were in good hands.

When they did join him in the kitchen, Juno with reddened eyes but a relaxed expression across his face he let himself relax as well. And as a bonus, Juno was more than happy to take up the childcare duties the rest of the day in what was no doubt an attempt to make up for his slight.

Normally, he might have made an attempt to still share his portion of babysitting, but his lack of sleep from the day caught up to him, and paired with the release of tension that had been pulled taught between him and Juno for far too long, he was more than happy to spend an hour or so dozing in his room.

He woke up in time for dinner later, and found them both back in the kitchen where Juno was attempting to feed Millie some of the questionably flavoured baby food.

“There seems to be more food on you than that does to be in the child’s mouth,” Peter remarked.

Juno paused in his quest to get Millie to accept another spoonful to look down at himself. Yellow babyfood smeared across the collar of his shirt and up to his jaw. It speckled across his shoulders and chest, and there was another blob that had managed to find itself smudged across his left cheekbone.

“Well, Millie thought I should test it out first,” Juno said dryly before turning back to the child in question. This time he seemed to try a different angle, pulling the spoon away and then letting it drift closer to Millie’s mouth in a meandering path, making a strange noise with his mouth.

“What in the galaxy are you doing?” Peter asked, perplexed.

“Making a spaceship. Never seen this before, Ransom? _Look Millie, here comes the spaceship, nnnnnoooooooooommmmm…”_

Millie gurgled happily and obligingly let Juno slip the spoon into her mouth.

“That is, not the sound a spaceship makes,” Peter said, in lieu of not knowing what else to say.

Juno snorted. “Think you can do better?” He held the spoon out.

“Oh,” Peter said. He was half-tempted to refuse until he caught the teasing glint in the other man’s eye. Not one back down from a challenged he nodded once, “of course.”

They switched places. Juno standing up and Peter settled on the chair in front of Millie, holding a spoonful of yellow baby food with some trepidation. He cleared his throat and waved his arm like he had seen Juno doing until the spoon reached Millie, but their mouth remained stubbornly shut.

“You have to make the noise,” Juno said helpfully.

“I’m aware, I was just practising,” he lied through his teeth. Peter felt strangely self-conscious as he cleared his throat for the second time.

“ _Nn – Nnnnnnrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeehhhhhh_ ,” he tried, feeling his cheeks begin to warm up involuntarily. He hadn’t considered how embarrassing it was to be sitting in front of Juno Steel, making fake spaceship noises as he watched. On top of that, Millie seemed unimpressed with his efforts, turning their face away entirely.

Juno snickered, “I think your spaceship sounds like it’s going to crash.”

Peter gave him a tight smile in return. “Well, at least mine didn’t sound like was some teenager’s science project come to life.” For a second, he wondered if he went to far, but Juno laughed again, harder this time.

“Hey, don’t diss teenage science projects. You should have seen the ones Mick, Sasha and I used to come up with.”

“I’m sure they were equal parts brilliant and terrifying,” Peter rolled his eyes. The feeling of a wet, banana scented hand on his chest forced his attention back to the matter at hand.

Millie, apparently bored with the lack of attention on them, had managed to tip their entire hand in the jar and then smear it down the front of Peter’s very nice, silken shirt.

“Aaaah.” Millie said, and opened their mouth. Peter sighed and fed them the spoon.

“That’s another outfit that will never be the same again,” he mourned.

“Maybe you could start an art trend: decadence versus child rearing,” Juno suggested, a smirk evident in his voice, “or maybe you could stop wearing clothes that cost half the price of this spaceship when looking after a baby.”

Peter just sighed again and readied the next spoon.

-

Going to bed that night was almost as awkward as the last.

“Right,” Peter said, after they both stared at the bed for a solid five minutes without sleeping. “Millie’s not ready to rest yet so I am going to walk around a while until they nod off. You go off to sleep now.” The baby in question had their head resting against his shoulder, but there legs kicked idly around.

“Are you sure” Juno rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, “I could take the floor.”

“Nonsense, we’re both adults, we can do this.” It would have been a bit more convincing if his eyes weren’t as wide as saucers.

Juno huffed out a breath, “All right, fine. Don’t take too long,” He said, before wincing. That was definitely a flirty sort of sentence. He hadn’t meant to say it but it had just slipped out.

Peter laughed, high and nervous, “Of course not, unless Millie takes a while to fall asleep then it will be a while, but that’s because of them and not because I don’t want to, um,” He cleared his throat, “Good night, Juno.”

“Night Ransom.”

Juno got one leg on the bed and paused.

“Hey, Ransom?”

“Yes, Juno?”

“Are you just going to watch me go to bed or – ?”

Peter went blindingly red when he realised he was still staring at Juno, and honestly, the ex-detective wasn’t that far behind.

“Of course not! I’m just leaving now. Which is what I planned on. Excuse me,” He whirled on the ball of his foot and scurried from the room not unlike he had the night before but this time Juno had to bury his smile in his pillow.

Juno was on the edge of sleep when Peter slipped under the covers. He fell asleep to the quiet breaths and the weight of a body beside him.

-

The next day was – easier, to say the least.

Peter finally felt like he could look at Juno and not to be brought back to soft sheets, and soft words, and soft footsteps. He could look at Juno, and see the him _now_ , not just the detective that left him.

It was a relief, and yet somehow it didn’t stop the ache in his chest. The one that sat so heavy in his chest the night before when they finally managed to share a bed, he thought he’d be pulled right through the mattress.

He wasn’t angry at Juno anyway. But this might be worse.

Juno beamed down at the baby; not a flickering candle of an expression but for once a bright, lasting thing filled with warmth and sending fire through Peter’s veins. His heart thumped uncomfortably in his chest and he pressed his hand over it.

Watching Juno, a feeling wormed itself under his skin, sparking like lightning through his veins, all-consuming and devastating in its efficiency, to the point Peter had to rest one hand on the wall to avoid sinking straight to the ground. He spared a half second to wonder if he’d been slipped something at breakfast, if the squeezing in his chest has been caused by substance aimed to incapacitate him.

“Is the milk ready?” Juno asked, like Peter wasn’t haven’t heart palpitations in the middle of the kitchen.

“Yes,” he said dumbly, still staring.

Juno’s eyes flickered to the formula sitting on the bench that was decidedly not ready, and back to his face, one eyebrow raising. “You okay, there?”

Heat rushed to his face, and he busied himself with measuring out spoonfuls. “Perfectly fine. Past fine, even. Excellent.”

“Right,” Juno said, dubiously. “Well good, because the little munchkin is hungry, _aren’t you Millie_?” Juno cooed at the baby. Peter’s heart made a break for it again.

He had been worried that Juno wouldn’t want anything to do with the baby after yesterday’s… incident, but it seemed like it was the opposite. The detective seemed determined to throw himself into being the best pseudo-parent that he could.

Juno smiled again, and Peter poured boiling water onto his hand instead of the bottle.

-

“I never would have picked you as someone clumsy, Ransom.” He rubbed the last of the burn cream into the burn and turned to grab a bandage. Juno sent up a silent prayer Vespa wouldn’t notice he’d raided the infirmary and come murder him.

“I guess we still have much to learn about each other,” only yesterday those words have been cutting. But today, there was a thoughtful look in the thief’s eye, and red painted across his cheeks.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” It was like Peter’s personality had switched in the night.

He blinked, “oh yes, perfectly fine.” He looked down at the bandage now wrapped around his hand, his opposite arm cradling Millie to his chest. “I could have just done this myself, you know?”

“I didn’t trust you to do it right if you’re feeling clumsy enough to burn yourself, Ransom,” Juno said instead of something dumb like, _actually I just really wanted an excuse to touch you._

“Hm,” Peter considered him, and Juno ducked his head. “Anyway, you might as well do away with the silly moniker, it’s become quite clear to both of us over the past few days that Peter Ransom never seems to exist when I’m around you.”

“You mean – ?” His breath caught in his throat.

Peter smiled at him, a tiny thing edging at the corner of his mouth. “I’d introduce myself, but you happen to be the one person with who I don’t have to.”

“Nureyev.” The word spilled from his mouth from where it had been tucked between his teeth every day since they had reunited.

They stared at each other. It felt like another piece he hadn’t noticed out of place had fallen into position. Nureyev tongue flicked out over his lips and his eyes followed the motion.

“Nuh-viv!” Millie said proudly, interrupting Nureyev before he could reply.

The thief in question stared down in abject terror at the child like he had forgotten they existed before snorting at himself. “Well, make that _two_ people who know my name.”

Juno couldn’t help it, he laughed. Confused but eager to join in, Millie laughed too. Soon the three of them sat in the kitchen, helplessly giggling. It felt nice.

-

They’ve gotten through most of the day without another argument, and Juno can’t help but feel relived about that. There had almost been a fight over who’s turn it was to change their diaper at lunch, but Millie had sniffled and they had both falling over themselves to cheer her up and Peter had even volunteered to do the honours of the diaper change.

Millie had just finished being burped and fed and night had crept into the Carte Blanche. Juno cradled Millie as if they were glass and would shatter at any moment. After yesterday, he couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t.

He stroked the pad of his finger down one squishy cheek and guilt curdled in his stomach, “I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Hell, I shouldn’t have even been yelling at Nureyev,” he whispered.

“Nah-Viv!” Millie chirped, still pleased with their newly learned word.

Juno mouth ticked up, “Yes, Millie. Nah-viv.”

Their little mouth opened in an audible yawn, and they smacked their lips together drowsily.

“It must be about bed time for you, then?” Juno said, moving to place them into the cot. Millie whined and wriggled in his arms.

Juno looked at the cot and then down at Millie, and sighed. He resettled them back into his arms and chose to lean back against the headboard of the bed, Millie cradled against his chest.

“I guess you’re not ready to be put down yet. Okay Juno, think. What makes babies sleep – you’d think you’d know this by now. Oh, I guess I could…” He looked at the door to the bedroom, where it remained steadfastly closed. Juno had promised he’d take over baby-related duties long enough for the man to take a soak in the tub.

Though how he managed to cram all six-foot-two inches of his gangly limbs into their tiny bathtub he’d never know. Maybe he curled his knees up to his chest, and – wow, Juno really needed to stop thinking about Nureyev in the bath _yesterday_.

“If I sing to you,” he told Millie firmly, “you can’t tell Nureyev, okay? It stays between you and me.”

“Nah-viv,” Millie agreed, before devolving into babbles. It appeared Millie was going to get all their secrets by the end of this week.

“My mother used to sing this to me and my brother. And then when she stopped caring, I’d sing it to my brother on the bad nights, just to drown out some of the yelling,” he admitted quietly. “It’s not a pretty song, but I guess it was fitting enough. Now I’m an ex-detective turned criminal, so I guess I didn’t pay heed to the warning.”

Millie blinked at him.

“Right. Now I’m spilling my life story to a child that doesn’t understand me. I guess I still need more sleep. Okay here we go.”

He cleared this throat a little, and starting singing, voice low and rough but Millie didn’t seem to mind. They stuck their thumb in their mouth and listened.

_“They sleep under the city_

_They creep along, we pity_

_Those that we all call some_

_Of the lesser few_

_The monsters are nearly here_

_Baby shush your cries my dear_

_Or they’ll make you one_

_Of the lesser few_

_Close your eyes and rest child_

_Don’t become one of the wild_

_Sleep until the sun_

_Hides the lesser few_

_No nightmares will befall you_

_I’ll be here to hold onto_

_Your life isn’t done_

_Unlike us lesser few.”_

His voice trailed off. Millie’s eyes were closed and their thumb had fallen from their mouth and rested limply by their side. Juno sighed in relief.

“Sleep well, kid.”

-

Outside, Nureyev slid down the wall and sat up against the wall next to the door. He pressed one hand down hard over his chest. Under his palm, his traitorous heart beat like a mantra for the man inside the room.

Juno’s voice still echoed in his head, soft and a little husky. Like everything the ex-detective did, it slipped between his defences and laid claim to another piece of the ever-growing part of his mind labelled _Juno Steel_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one done and dusted. Two to go!
> 
> Fun fact: I tried to find a lullaby I could rewrite and give a Mars-like twist, but none of them fit right, or when I did find one I liked I couldn't find an audio recording of it so I couldn't get a sense of the rhythm, so I ended up just writing my own. Hope it wasn't awful haha. It's a bit morbid, but well, I can't imagine they have too many happy ones on Mars. Or even here, ever really looked at the lyrics of a lullaby? Shit's weird.
> 
> EDIT: SOMEONE HAS SUNG AND RECORDED THE LULLABY. Listen to this and weep. https://caedogeist-rights.tumblr.com/post/639228924566683648/featured-in-the-wonderful-fic-how-hard-can
> 
> See you all again soon <3 Let me know what you thought!


	4. Day. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wears clothes that aren't his own. Juno tries not to have a heart attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit late. I'm sorry! Real life commitments took up more time than I was expecting and I didn't get a chance to post a chapter yesterday. Friend commitments (I'm Australian so we're allowed to meet up dw) and Uni assessment (I'm currently getting my Master's degree), do not make for a lot of time to write and edit.
> 
> But I'm here now so here's the next chapter!

Juno had never wanted kids. Every urge stifled by the memories of empty bottles of alcohol and the stench of smoke that never truly went away. Feelings crushed like glass beneath his boots because he was too rough, too wild, too fucked up to ever trust himself to raise a child.

So no, he’d never wanted kids. But god, looking at Nureyev under the shitty florescent light of the living room, swaying back and forth with Millie is his arms, one hand gently cradling their head and the other tucked underneath them –

Nureyev made it look a little appealing if that was what he got to see every day.

Juno had retired to the living room to watch a trashy stream Rita had recommended while Mille and Peter both napped in the bedroom that had become less solely Peter’s, and more _theirs_.

He’d left a pile of his clothes in there on the night of the third day, messily lumped under the dresser. It was better than seeing them neatly hung next to Peter’s own clothes, and be reminded of everything that had once been possible between them. Still, despite owning at least thrice the clothes that Juno had, it wasn’t his own clothes he was wearing.

The sweatpants he’s jammed his legs into bunched up awkwardly around his calves, and the shirt hung loose on his thin frame. His hair wasn’t perfectly styled either, and set messily atop his head, tied together with his eyeliner looking a little smudged a little at the edges. He looked, for once, imperfect.

If Juno could think past the sudden rushing in his ears, he’d realise he was gaping unattractively.

“Oh hello, Juno dear. I didn’t notice you there,” Peter looked a little nervous, self-consciously tucking a wayward strand of hair behind his ear.

“My clothes.” Was all he managed.

“Ah,” Peter looked down at himself, as if he’d just remembered, “Yes, sorry about that. I wasn’t ready to sacrifice another outfit if Millie decides to play with her food more than eat it again.” He winced at the memory of his ruined coat.

“Right,” Juno croaked.

“Is it a problem? My apologies, I should have asked first.” He fidgeted in place, looking the least put-together Juno could ever recall him being – and that was including their time in captivity. A blush was spreading across his cheeks.

“No ah, it’s fine. Wear my clothes forever – whenever! I meant, whenever.” Juno coughed.

Peter brightened, “Good then. Now little one, are you feeling carrots or Urethian mash?” The man turned his attention to Millie and continued onwards to the kitchen, “I’ve heard good things about the mash I must admit, although none are quite sure what exactly _what_ has been mashed. A family recipe or so they say –”

Peter’s voice faded away and Juno slumped sideways onto the couch and buried his face in a pillow and screamed.

“Did you say something Juno?” Peter called from the kitchen.

Juno pulled away from the pillows and sighed. If he was going to suffer either way, he might as well enjoy it when he could, “I said I’d be right in.”

-

It’s like once he started, he couldn’t stop. He knew he’d been too obvious, and he wasn’t doing it on purpose but every time he got distracted playing blocks his eyes got caught on Nureyev’s frame.

He lounged on the couch, an elegant sprawl that Juno couldn’t replicate even if he had been paid too. He held a novel above him, occasionally flicking to a new page. Everything more or less normal, like he wasn’t there declaring his trust of Juno with his ruffled hair, smudged makeup and _Juno’s clothes._

“Bah.” Mille’s disgruntled voice brought me back to the scene in front of him. Millie smacks two blocks together, looking extremely dissatisfied with the way he kept getting distracted from building the blocks in a haphazard. Though Juno was beginning to think Millie didn’t like his tower-building skills, but rather getting the opportunity to knock it down.

He forced himself to focus on setting up another pile of blocks for Millie to wreck, focused so had in fact, he almost missed the sound of Nureyev’s voice.

“I know I’m not up to my usual standard, but if you think I look that bad I can always go change,” the thief said lightly.

“What.”

Nureyev eye’s slid from the page over to where Juno and Millie were sat on the floor a few feet away. He raised a pointed eyebrow. “I can feel you staring at me. If I look so terrible, I can just throw on something else.” He moved as if to get up.

“No, wait!” Juno flung out a hand to halt him. “I don’t think you look bad.”

Nureyev paused, waiting for him to elaborate. Juno looked hard down at the blocks, stacking the fifth one in a row on top of each other. Millie deemed this enough, because their tiny fists darted out and destroyed it, giggling happily.

“I’m not even sure if it’s possible for you _to_ look bad,” Juno grumbled, hoping that was enough to assuage the issue.

No such luck. Nureyev sat up further, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his legs and stare directly at him. Juno’s scratched at the back of his self self-consciously.

“So, you think I look good,” Nureyev surmised, “But surely I usually make a far prettier picture than I do today, unless something about this outfit draws you in in particular.” He looked down at himself and Juno couldn’t help but drag his eyes across the loose fit of the shirt, the way it dipped to show his collarbones, the glimpse of his ankles where the pants didn’t reach all the way, his bare feet, toes painted a crimson red.

Nureyev caught him looking, just like he must have every other time.

“Oh, _oh?_ ”

There was a gleam in his eye now, like a dog that had caught sight of a bone, or a rabbit that had caught sight of a couple hundred creds and you were the one holding them. It was enough to make anyone break out in a cold sweat.

“You know what, I just realised that I have to ahh, _go_ —” His voice tilted alarmingly high as he scrambled to stand up, and coughed once. “—yes, go, and do stuff. Things! Like, wash my, um, clothes.”

“Did you want me to take these off then,” Nureyev tugged at the hem of his shirt like he would strip right there if Juno asked.

“ _No!_ No, you can keep your clothes on,” Juno inched towards the door, “even though I’m sure you look good with them off too. Wait, no. I mean, well, I know you look good with your clothes…” Juno sighed, “I’m going to go now. Watch over Millie.”

Nureyev smirks had twitched into a genuine smile and grown as Juno rambled until he broke into a chortling laugh, throwing his head back as he did. “Yes, okay, my dear. Go deal with your, _ahem_ , clothes,” his eyes dipped down once to Juno’s pants, the corner of his mouth twitching before he devolved into giggling.

“Going. Now,” Juno ground out through his humiliation, and then fled.

-

Juno avoided him for the better part of the day after that. Perhaps he had taken it a little too far, but oh, the darkening of his cheeks and flustered muttering was so sweetly Juno it left him breathless. And not just with laughter.

And the clothes. He’d fretted over the mirror that morning, after spending time going through his wardrobe for something that could be sacrificed to Millie’s small, but constantly grubby hands and slobbering mouth. But he wasn’t exactly known for his moderation when it came to his possessions.

And he’d snatched up Juno’s clothes on a whim, and then spent another fifteen minutes debating over whether or not to do his hair and makeup. Dressed down, when he usually tried so hard to stand out.

Admittedly, when Juno first came aboard he’d tried a little too hard to flaunt exactly what the man had walked away from. Lounging across the Ruby-7 didn’t exactly scream self-restraint.

He had forgone most of his morning routine, save a few creams and moisturisers. A sign of their new friendship, Nureyev had decided, to present himself without barriers. Too many walls had stood between them before, he knew that now, but if Juno was willing to try and shed his, then Nureyev could have the decency to do the same.

Not that it stopped the icy fear in his veins when Juno first laid eyes on him, and then continued to sneak glances all through the morning. It had set doubt and self-deprecation spinning through his mind. _Did Juno not like me like this? Do I look too old, too plain, too different? What is he_ thinking _?_

Juno, apparently, had been thinking Nureyev looked ‘good.’ Such a flimsy praise and yet he felt swept away under the weight of it.

In front of him Millie smacked their hands into the three inch deep water they were sitting in, successfully bringing Nureyev’s attention back to the task at hand. He spluttered, wiping water from his eyes. Millie, was utterly unapologetic, giggling madly.

Before he knew it, his lips curved up in a fond smile. “At least this time it’s Juno’s clothes that you’re ruining, little one.”

Millie grinned toothlessly. And slapped at the water again.

Water dripped down his face and he sighed, “Okay, I think that’s enough bath time for you.”

Peter wrangled Millie out of the bath and into clean clothes. He paused, and set Millie down for a second to strip his wet shirt off. And then exited the room.

He ran into Juno in the hallway, who seemed to be muttering on his coms device.

“Sorry, didn’t see you – ” He looked up and froze, eyes wide, “Um, you. Shirt.”

“Hm? Oh, yes. Millie soaked the one of yours I was wearing, I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Juno croaked, eyes focused on his bare chest, red blooming in his cheeks.

_Oh_.

“Is that Mistah Man, I hear?” A perky voice chirped up from Juno’s coms.

“Ah, yeah, sorry Rita,” Juno’s cleared his throat and looked pointedly away.

“Hello Rita dear, I would love to stay in chat, but I’m afraid I need to find a new shirt before our dearest detective combusts,” Nureyev felt brave enough to tease.

Juno went even redder.

“Shirtless? Ohhh…” Rita’s voice trailed off into giggles, “Well don’t let me stop you.”

“Thank you. Do you mind taking Millie?” Nureyev said, directing the last part to the lady still blushing prettily in front of him.

He didn’t speak, just reached out and gently took them, the back of his knuckles grazing against Nureyev’s bare chest. Nureyev shivered.

At this rate they were both going to be blushing.

“Juno, Rita,” He dipped his head and then continued down the hallway, a sway in his step when he imagined Juno eyes following him.

-

“-ss. Boss. You okay there, Mistah Steel?” Rita’s voice filtered through the haze he had fallen into.

“I’m fine,” He said. He bounced Millie in his arms a few times, much to their delight.

“Really? Because you sounded real distracted. I mean, who wouldn’t be distracted if someone as attractive as Mistah Man was standing all in front of you, shirtless and smiling, and oh wow, Mr Steel, did he say he had been wearing your _clothes_?”

“Rita,” Juno gritted out.

“Oh. Oh! Are you guys together now? That’s so sweet Boss, you should have told me,” Rita gasped,” Unless that’s why you’re calling now and I’ve just ruined your moment, I’m sorry Mistah Steel. You tell me now I’ll sit here and be quiet, okay?”

She finished her rant, and Juno didn’t need to see her to know that she was waiting in expectant silence.

“Rita, we are _not –_ ” His voice cracked and he hurriedly cleared this throat, “I called you to get an update on how you were doing. _Nothing more_. Ransom was wearing my clothes because Millie is a baby, and babies make sense. I thought he’s already lost a small fortune worth of outfits through stains he’ll never get out. Hence, wearing my clothes.” He wasn’t bitter over the fact Nureyev didn’t have other, nicer reason to want to wear his clothes he wasn’t.

“You don’t sound too happy about that, Boss. Something the matter?” Rita asked. Damn her and her innate ability to know when Juno was hiding something.

“It’s nothing,” Juno said.

“Ain’t sound like nothing. I know you like Mistah Mystery Man.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Juno yelped, “Not that I do, or anything. We’re friends. Acquaintances. Actually, I think we are friends now, huh,” Juno smiled a little to himself.

“And you want to be more than friends!” Rita burst out.

“God damnit, Rita,” Juno sighed.

“That’s not a no,” Rita pointed out and Juno grumbled. “I get it. You have your super-secret history with him, and then things went bad. And now you’re around him again and caring for a baby like you’re both their parents or something, and it’s no wonder you’re having trouble dealing with your feelings. You’ve probably been pushing them down all this time but I bet something’s changed between you two and now you’re getting scared of messing up again.”

Still resting in the crook of one arm, Millie yawned widely. Juno stared down at the child, feeling their warmth against his chest and then thinking of Peter holding Millie, and how good they looked together. How open and vulnerable he had seemed lately, razor-sharp tongue softened to silk.

“It’s just,” Juno hesitated, “what if he doesn’t want anything more ever again, because I fucked it up so badly last time?”

“Then you’ll stay as friends,” He pictured Rita shrugging over the line. “But just between you and me Mistah Steel, I think you’ve got a chance.”

“Thanks, Rita,” Juno said.

“No problem, Boss. It’s just like this one stream I watched where two estranged lovers find each other again – Well, we’ll talk about it another time, I think Miss Buddy is calling me,” He could hear muffled voices over the line, “Oh, and the mission is going well Mistah Steel, don’t you worry. We should be back the day after tomorrow. Bye-bye now.”

“Stay safe, Rita.”

“Always do, Mistah Steel,” The line clicked off.

Talking to Rita about things, even when she dragged the information out of him before he even realised she was doing it, almost always made him feel better. She knew him better than anyone else and her words left him feeling a little hopeful.

This thing with Nureyev, whatever it was, was delicate right now. Juno couldn’t even fully tell if there _was_ a thing. If it did become something more, Juno didn’t want to mess it up again like last time. But he was different now, he didn’t want to run away from Nureyev anymore. He didn’t feel tethered to Mars and Hyperion City. For the first time he was running towards something.

It felt pretty good. And terrifying. But mostly good.

-

After returning to his room, he’d chosen to pull on one of his own shirts, rather than wear another one of Juno’s. When he found the man again, sometime later, he hadn’t been able to tell if Juno was happy about this change, or disappointed.

Juno had acted a little weird around him the rest of the afternoon, and a knot formed in Nureyev’s stomach. Maybe he had pushed it too far today; wearing Juno’s clothes and flirting when they’d just barely stopped arguing with each other. Perhaps Juno thought it too soon then that.

Or worse, perhaps he didn’t care for it at all. Sure, Juno had told him he was sorry about the whole leaving him to wake up along thing. And was definitely still attracted to him in some way. Was that enough to say for sure whether or not he wanted more though?

It was possible Nureyev had exaggerated everything in his hand, his own traitorous, yearning heart desperately reaching out again as if it didn’t know what it felt like to get burned. Stupid and foolish. Yet, if there was even a chance…

Nuryev huffed and rolled over irritably in bed. The Carte Blanche was quiet other than the gentle humming of the engine that faded easily into the background. Juno was changing Millie and then coaxing them to sleep, so for now the space beside him on the bed was empty. It was an uncomfortable familiar feeling.

That morning, he had woken up and seen Juno snoring into the pillows. A part of him thought it felt so right to see him there, relaxed and trusting and most importantly, resting beside him. His mind had only briefly wondered over how nice it would have been to shift closer, to press a kiss to Juno’s cheek and watch him wake.

He’d gotten up before he could do anything foolish.

The door opened and Juno entered. He set Millie down in her crib and murmered gently to her. She must have already been asleep, because she didn’t stir.

The mattress dipped under Juno’s weight, and he listened as the sheets rustled and shifted until Juno was comfortable.

“Juno,” He said softly, almost too softly to be heard.

There was a pause, as if the other man was gauging how likely it was Nureyev was talking in his sleep, “Nuryev,” He returned finally, “Sorry did I wake you?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Nureyev said, suddenly aware that he was curled up facing towards Juno, and he searched out the outline of his features in the dark. He had to ask now before he lost his nerve, “I wanted to ask you, if I bothered you at all today? I thought maybe I might have teased you too much, or made you uncomfortable.”

Juno rolled so they were facing each other. A scant few inches separated them and the air buzzed with potential.

“So, it was on purpose,” Juno said wryly.

“Not entirely,” Nureyev protested, but it was weak, “But I admit to holding a _curiousity_ , shall we say, to how you would react. I don’t usually let anyone see me like that, unstripped of all my layers, so to speak. I wanted to see, no I _needed_ to see, if you would think less of me like that.”

“Nureyev,” Juno’s voice was hushed, mindful of the baby in the room, but he sounded shocked.

“Sorry, Juno dear, I know that wasn’t fair of me,” He said, swallowing nervously.

The sheets rustled again and then warm fingers brushed against his jaw. He flinched back instinctively, and Juno’s hand hesitated. Nureyev shifted back into the touch just slightly, and the hand moved until it was softly cupping the side of his face.

“Nothing about your appearance could ever make me feel less of you,” Juno whispered, the hand retreated, the pads of his fingers dragging softly against his cheek as he did, “You’re beautiful, Nureyev, no matter what.”

Nureyev’s breath hitched and he reached out and caught Juno’s hand before he could think better of it. He held it gingerly, waiting for Juno to pull away but he didn’t. Emboldened, he tightened his grip and let their hands rest on the mattress between them.

“Thank you, Juno,” He said, hoping the gentle squeeze of his hand conveyed what his words couldn’t.

Juno squeezed back, “Of course. Just if you’re going to wear my clothes give me a little bit of a warning first. Please.”

Nureyev laughed gently, “I think I can manage that.”

Content, he closed his eyes, and got the sense Juno was doing the same. The position wasn’t exactly comfortable for either of them but neither dared to let go. They fell asleep like that, hands gently clasped together and bodies curled towards the other yet still only keeping that one point of contact between them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter made me feel soft so I hope it made you feel soft.
> 
> Only one more to go now aaaaaaaaa.


	5. Days 6 and 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juno and Peter enjoy their final days with Millie. While it's said some things come to the end, new things are beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE IT IS
> 
> sorry for the delay, this was the only chapter that wasn't even a little but pre-written and it just kept going into this 6.5k monster I didn't expect. I'm sad this is over now, I had a lot of fun writing this and I'm really proud of myself for finishing it. I hope you all enjoy this final chapter <3

Juno feels different today. Lighter. Even though Millie had woken him up a few hours before sunrise, he felt strangely energised. It might have something to do with the fact he had still been holding Nureyev’s hand when he’d gotten up.

The thief had mumbled something at him, hand grasping at the sheet where he had been laying. Juno hadn’t had the heart to leave right away, the moment too similar to one they’d both rather forget. He’d let his emotions guide him for once, brushing a hand feather-light over the man’s hair.

“Go back to sleep. I’m just going to see what Millie wants,” He murmured.

Nureyev said something that was probably an assent and drifted back to sleep.

After he’d changed Millie – and even after nearly a week he still was not used to _that_ aspect of child-minding, neither was he a fan – and gotten a cup of coffee for himself when Millie seemed uninterested in going back to sleep.

He dug through the box of things Jet had brought and came up with a couple tubes of non-toxic paint and some blank paper. Never let it be said the man wasn’t extremely thorough. Or he’d just thrown in everything he saw and called it a day. Either option was plausible.

He looked at Millie, and looked down at the paint in hands.

“Might as well.”

Ten minutes later Juno had unearthed a tarp from somewhere and laid it down over the kitchen table. He got Millie set up in their highchair and laid the paper in front of them where they could reach. Then he carefully opened the pots of pant and poured a little of each colour on a plastic lid rather than risk given Millie all of it.

“Look at this, Millie,” Juno dipped on finger in the paint and dragged it across the page. It left a blue streak that reminded him of a necklace Nureyev had worn recently.

God, he really had it bad if generic paint colours were making his brain go all mushy.

He forcefully pushed the man from his mind – it was like he spent so much time there lately he’d ask Nureyev to pay rent, if that didn’t involve actually admitting to thinking about much. And god, he’d need the rent money to pay the therapists he’d have to see just for the embarrassment alone.

Point was, this was Millie time, not daydream about what Nureyev might look like under the moonlight time. They were in space. They didn’t even get moonlight. Hm, maybe they should go for a walk at night next time they were on a planet with a moon –

Millie time. Right.

Their eyes were bright and curious. One hand came down and landed in the red paint, and they eyed their fingers with wonder.

“Now, like this,” He guided their hand onto the paper and drew a red line alongside his blue one.

Millie babbled happily and pressed their palms back into the paint and begun smearing it across the page.

“You like red, huh?” Juno said, as Millie pressed sloppy red handprints across the page, “You know, I think Nureyev makes liking _me_ red.”

“Nuh-ev!” Millie agreed.

Juno idling dipped his finger into the paint and swirled it across the page, “But is he doing it because it’s just part of his whole –schtick– or whatever, or is he doing it so I’ll flirt back? Does he want me to flirt back? What if I flirt back and he thinks I’m weird and he hasn’t forgiven me for everything?”

Millie didn’t so much as look at him. But did babble something vaguely affirmative.

“You’re right,” Juno sighed, “You don’t usually hold hands with someone you don’t want to flirt with. Or maybe he does?”

Millie didn’t appear to have the answer. He wished he could be as carefree as they looked right now. But no, he had to be having an internal crisis instead. And he he’d hoped his last external crisis on Mars would have negated those a little.

Juno groaned and dropped his head onto the table, narrowly missing the paint palette. He resisted the urge to hit his head against it a few more times. He wouldn’t want to set a bad example for Millie.

“I should probably just talk to him, right? Like, just lay out everything. No holds barred. And if he rejects me and chews me out for ever assuming anything could be going on we’re only stuck on a tiny ship with no way to avoid each other for the foreseeable future. Maybe I should just leave it.”

Millie grumbled and slapped a hand down right onto his head of curls. Juno heaved a sigh.

****

“No, you’re right. I’ll talk to him.”

The hand grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked.

“Ow, watch it,” Juno hissed, inching his head off the table and reaching up to detangle the tiny hand before pausing. “You’re hands still covered in paint isn’t it.”

Millie hummed.

He let his head fall back onto the table just one more time. This time he hit the paint pallet. He groaned again. At least paint washed out.

-

Nureyev was both bewildered and unphased when he walked into the kitchen to Juno trying to rinse what looked like an entire painting out of his hair. All sorts of strange things just seemed to happen to Juno, he had come to realise, and it was much easier to just go with it, then grapple with the _how’s_ and _why’s_.

Still, “Dare I even ask?”

Juno opened his hair eyes from under the stream and immediately cursed as paint ran down into his eyes. He shoved his head further under the water to rinse them out. Nureyev watched with an equal touch of amusement and concern.

“Oh dear, I hope that isn’t toxic,” he commented.

Juno pried his head from under the tap and shook his hair out. It dripped down his neck and left soaked into his white t-shirt. Nureyev followed the trail for a few seconds longer than what would be considered polite.

“It said it wasn’t,” Juno sighed, “Though it the label saying it was easy to wash out doesn’t seem as accurate as I hoped, so who knows at this point.” He tugged on a strand of hair to demonstrate, it was awfully yellow. Not quite Juno’s colour, Nureyev had to admit.

“And how did your hair end up looking like you’ve dunked your head in hair dye?” Nureyev questioned,

Juno twitched, and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Millie was sitting in their highchair, legs kicking happily. They looked remarkably cleaner, though he could spot a couple of splotches on their arms. Juno must have tried to clean them first.

“I thought Millie would like to paint,” he admitted, lips twisting into a pout. Ah, that explained so much, and yet so little.

Nureyev ignored how unfairly cute that made him look. “Oh? And you decided to be the canvas?” He arched an eyebrow. Juno’s face twisted further.

“Not quite,” he muttered, but didn’t elaborate. “I’m not a fan of having half the colours of the rainbow in my hair though.”

“Have you tried washing it out, with, oh I don’t know, some kind of soap?” Nureyev suggested. “Take a bath while you’re at it, and you can use it as an excuse to relax. I don’t think you’ve taken one in the whole time we’ve been on the Carte Blanche.”

Juno screwed up his nose, “A bath?”

“Yes, my dear. You have had one before, hm?” Nureyev teased.

“Well, I—Yes, I’m sure I’ve taken a bath at _some_ point, although showers are really a lot more convenient –”

Nureyev stared at him. Honestly, this lady would be the death of him. “I’m going to start the water, and you will get in, and then I’m going to wash your hair for you. Honestly, Juno, you need to relax more.”

He looked vaguely alarmed, “You are?”

Nureyev swallowed but kept his face perfectly aloof, “I am. You should get Millie set up in the playpen while you’re waiting.” And then he speed-walked from towards the bathroom before the heat on his face could become too noticeable.

He turned the dials, put the plug in and watched the water fill the tub. He dug through his bath things, smelling a few different oils and tipping them in. Oh, no. Had he just demanded to wash Juno’s hair. Juno, who would be in the bath, likely not wearing any clothes. What had he done? Nureyev dug through the bag again, this time for the bubble bath.

He was just turning the taps off when a cough interrupted his train of thought. When he looked, Juno was leaning against the doorway, eyeing the bathtub with apprehension. Peter looked at it too, it did seem a tad intimidating, all but overflowing with bubbles and the water a purple-like colour under that. Ah well, too late to change anything now.

“Here you are, Juno. I’ll just leave while you got undressed and settled in, all right?” He smiled as if everything was perfectly normal, and he regularly made baths for his sort-of ex/friend/current partner in crime and childcare.

Juno shifted off the doorframe and crossed his arms. The white shirt really made his biceps look unfairly good. “You’re serious about washing my hair?”

“Yes, of course. Unless you don’t want me to…?” Nureyev asked.

Juno shuffled in place. “Oh. No. I just thought, you’d find it, um, you know. Awkward?”

“Perish the thought. I’m more than happy to get my hands on your hair,” Nureyev smiled serenely before it froze on his face. Oh god, he really just said that. He opened his mouth to say something and make it less weird, but he found himself at a loss for words. He just gaped like a fish.

“Right. Good,” Juno looked a little wide eyed. They stared at each other. Neither seemed quite sure how to handle Nureyev’s comment.

Eventually Juno coughed, and took a step into the room. “I’ve got to get into the bath first,” he said pointedly.

“Yes,” Nureyev agreed.

Juno waited.

“ _Oh_ , yes. I’ll go see if Millie needs anything.”

This was a nightmare. All it had taken was forgiving Juno for that night on Mars, and now his heart couldn’t stop tripping all over itself and impeding his brain-to-mouth functions. It beat double time when he caught Juno’s lips tipping up in a smirk when he left. A nightmare, most definitely.

Unfortunately, Millie seemed quite happily settled in their playpen, bashing blocks together, and left him with no legitimate reason to linger. Nureyev dropped down in front of them in an undignified criss-cross position.

“Millie,” he hissed, “why did I agree to wash his hair? What was I _thinking_? Well, I was thinking Juno’s hair is soft and I’ve missed the feeling of it slipping through my fingers, and the sounds he made when I tu—” Nureyev cleared his throat, “I was not thinking clearly.”

Millie crawled over to him, and pressed a hand against the side. Nureyev pressed his hand on the other and Millie giggled.

“I don’t think he realises just how what he does to me,” he sighed, “it feels different to last time. It feels like this could be something. I know I shouldn’t, but all he has to do is look at me and smile and I just want to… throw my heart out to the very person who broke it. How very foolish of me.”

Millie cooed at him, and poke his hand through the mesh. He stood and brushed off his pants, reaching over the edge to brush his hands over the tufts of Millie’s hair, “Yes, you’re right. I’ve already thrown it, haven’t I? Do you think he’ll catch it?” He said nonsensically, gazing down at the baby. Millie blew spit bubbles at him.

Nureyev grimaced and removed his hand, “I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.”

-

The bath was… nice. The water was hot but not overwhelming; the warmth sunk into his body and he relaxed back against the side of the tub, head tilted back against the lip. A sweet scent wafted from it and he inhaled deeper. It was familiar, something Nureyev must have used recently. The bubbles were a bit of an inconvenience, he spent a solid minute batting them away from his face. Juno wondered why Nureyev included them at all, perhaps for the full bath experience. Still, it seemed excessive.

A knock on the door startled him, and the water splashed against the side of the tub.

“Is it all right if I come in now?” Nureyev’s voice came from the hallway. Juno’s breath caught in his throat and for a split second he had a panicked realisation that he was incredibly naked and looked for something to cover up before remembering the bubbles.

They all but overflowed over the sides of the tub, obscuring even the colour of the water underneath them, and more importantly, Juno. Ah, that’s why the bubbles were there. Juno didn’t know what to do with his hands. He left them in the water, then decided that was weird and placed them on the sides of the tub, sudds clinging to his forearms. Then decided that was weirder and shoved them back into the warm water.

“Juno?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” If his voice squeaked a little, he would never admit to it.

The door slid open, and Nureyev appeared. He looked a little ruffled himself, and his hands fidgeted in front of him. It was strangely relieving to see the man was just as nervous as him. He shut the door behind himself and shuffled inside.

“Hi,” Juno said dumbly.

Nureyev smiled, “Hello, Juno.”

“So you’re going to wash my hair?” Juno said, a little doubtfully. He had thought the man had been kidding at first, but now as he fiddled with products on the counter it was becoming abundantly clear he intended to go through with it.

“Indeed. Haven’t you ever let anyone wash your hair before, Juno? A hairdresser, or an ex-lover perhaps?” He looked over at Juno, as if daring him to answer, one eyebrow arched in amusement.

Juno pulled a knee up to his chest and offered a crooked grin, “Hairdresser? No. Too poor as a kid and now I just hand Rita a pair of scissors and let her do what she thinks is best.”

“And the other one?” Nureyev feigned a casual expression, leaning back against the sink to regard the other man.

Juno thought about his past relationships, slipping into the shower, of hands in his hair, of Diamond –

He shook his head, “Not in a bath, no.”

Nureyev’s face twitched a little, before he whirled around and gathered more bottles than surely was necessary and settled on the ground behind Juno’s head. “Well, given that you can’t even recall if you’ve _had_ a bath, that doesn’t exactly surprise me,” he tutted. “I’m going to start now Juno, can you shift forward a little and tilt your head back?”

Juno did as he asked, feeling both self-conscious and at ease. The simple act of being around Nureyev was equal parts calming and thrilling, although anyone resting in his blind spot made the ex-detective in him a little twitchy.

He stifled a flinch when a cool hand came down over his eyes and helped tilt his head back.

“It’s to stop water from getting in your eyes,” Nureyev answered his un-spoken question. A second later water tipped down over his head and soaked into his hair. It was warm and he shivered at the feeling.

It didn’t take long until Nureyev was encouraging to lean back against the tub again while he lathered his hands with something strangely fruit scented.

“That’s not mine,” Juno stated.

“You are correct,” Nureyev said, “I’m fairly sure the three-in-one lotion isn’t quite what I had in mind, so I’m using my own products, I hope you don’t mind.”

_It’s efficient_ , was what Juno wanted to say. But long, soapy fingers sunk into his hair and massaged at his scalp and all he could do was sigh in pleasure. He leaned a little more heavily against the tub and tilted into the feeling.

“Shit, you’re good at that.” It came out embarrassingly breathy. It brought his mind back to similar words he’d spoken on a very different night. _Ah, so good –_

Nureyev paused for a moment then resumed, “Thank you, I admit I was half-sure you were going to shut down my idea when I first suggested it.”

Juno hummed, “I guess you can be pretty convincing when you want to be, Nureyev.”

“Not always,” he muttered under his breath, before continuing in a playful tone, “My, my, all it takes is a little head massage and it seems you’re trying to melt right into the bath.”

“Now you’re just fishing for compliments,” Juno accused with none of his usual petulance.

“I would never,” Nureyev mock gasped.

He scrubbed his fingers over his scalp a couple more times then had Juno sit up again to rinse out his hair. He wondered if that would be it, but the thief returned with a new product to work into his curls.

“You really have remarkable hair, especially with how little I bet you’ve dedicated the time and effort to it,” he combed his fingers through wet curls and then tugged gently on the ends. Juno shivered.

Nureyev noticed, of course. “Ah, sorry, my dear.”

“It’s fine, feels nice,” he said quietly.

Nureyev didn’t reply verbally, but he did rake his nails over Juno’s scalp and massage at the base of his skull. A tiny gasp clawed its way from his throat and he was suddenly even more thankful of all the bubbles. Tension filled the room and hung heavy in the air between them.

Juno swallowed and closed his hands and let clever hands slip down to his shoulders and knead at the muscles there. This was definitely not just a simple helping hand anymore, he let his head drop forward to give him more room. Only, a stray curl fell across his forward and water dripped down and into his eyes. Which would have been fine, if whatever product Nureyev has chosen wasn’t still in his hair.

Juno hissed and reared back, blinking rapidly but it only burned more.

“Juno? Did I go too far?” Nureyev asked, concerned.

“Soap. In my eyes,” Juno gritted out.

“Oh!” Juno’s squeezed his eyes shut but he heard the man shuffled around and a hand tilted his chin back again, and water washed over his face, it was cold this time, probably from the sink, rather than using the purple bath water.

It took a few minutes but after a few rinses, it didn’t hurt to blink anymore. “Damn Nureyev, what is even in that stuff? That hurt.”

Nureyev’s hands fluttered over his face but didn’t touch, “I think you’d prefer not knowing to be honest. I do apologise Juno, I should have been more careful. Here let me rinse the rest of your hair out.”

When all the soap was well and truly gone, they both sat back with a sigh of relief. Whatever atmosphere they’d had was well and truly washed away. Juno resisted the urge to yell in frustration.

Nureyev stood, one of his knees cracking from resting on them for so long, “Well, I suppose I should leave you to your bath now.” He carefully didn’t meet Juno’s eyes and his mouth was a thin line.

“Oh, right,” Juno deflated a little, “It was, uh, nice? I didn’t expect to like it as much as I did so…” He’d liked it a little too much actually, but he’d rather drown himself in the bath than admit it.

The man perked up a little, “I’m glad to hear it. Perhaps, we could revisit it another time. A time where you don’t end up with paint and soap in your eyes on the same day.”

“Yeah, usually I try to limit it to one,” he said wryly.

Nureyev huffed a breath and then fingered the handle of the door, “Of course.” He tugged it open an inch.

“Wait,” Juno blurted out, “you could stay? And talk… or something.”

Nureyev blinked it a him, and then his eyes softened. “As wonderful as that sounds, I don’t think we’re quite ready for ‘ _or something_ ,’” His eyes dipped down lower and then back up to Juno’s face, and amusement flashed across his face. He slipped out of the room before Juno could reply.

“What did that even – oh, fuck.” Juno slapped a hand over his face. He hadn’t noticed it, but the bubbles had slowly dissipated over time and the repeated rinses. While still purple, the water was now visible, and rather transparent.

-

Nureyev yawned, it was almost time to sleep but he found himself strangely reluctant to retire. He and Juno and had just finished feeding Millie and Juno had them resting against his shoulder, gently patting them on the back.

It made him strangely reminiscent of their first day with Millie, not even a week ago. Back then, he could barely look at Juno without all sorts of feelings rearing up and raging in his chest. Now, he let a smile rest on his face as Juno cooed at Millie.

“You really are good with them,” he said.

Juno blinked over at him, looking strangely bashful, “You think?”

Nureyev stepped over to the two and stroked his fingers down Millie’s back. They were so tiny, so fragile, and so safe in Juno’s arms. “Yes, a natural, I believe is the term.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Juno nudged him with his foot.

Nureyev rolled his eyes, “No need to flatter me, Juno.”

“I’m not,” Juno protested, “You could barely to be in the same room as Millie on the first day, and now you’re basically a master of babysitting,” he grinned.

Nureyev laughed, and the sound seemed shockingly loud in the little bubble they were in. He dipped his head down a little, bringing their faces barely a few inches apart. The closeness thrilled and terrified him. “I would hardly go that far. But it has been a lot more enjoyable than I had imagined it being. The company certainly helped.”

He tapped Millie’s back, but his eyes met Juno’s.

Juno tilted his head up, meeting his eyes, “Would you ever have one?”

Nureyev hummed thoughtfully, “A child? I doubt it. My kind of life isn’t kind on someone so young. It’s a lot of harsh truths for a very young soul, I would know.”

Juno watched him steadily. The next time Nureyev stroked down Millie’s back his fingers brushed against his.

“Perhaps, though, if things were different. If I had a place to call home, or maybe someone, and I lived a much less dangerous life than I do then… I might consider adopting a child who needed it.” The words were uncomfortably honest, as if he’d plucked them out from behind his heart where he hadn’t even realised they’d been hiding.

“You’d be a good father, Nureyev.”

His eyes stung, and he retreated back a step, but Juno’s eyes followed him. “In another life, hm?”

“In another life,” Juno repeated, and then diverted into a new conversation topic, much to his relief, “Speaking of children, this is our last night with Millie, then I can stop stealing your bed every night.”

On seconds thought, he wasn’t sure he liked this either. “Oh, I haven’t minded,” he lied brazenly, “besides, how could I ever be upset with sharing my bed with a lady such as yourself?” He winked for good measure.

Juno’s eyebrows went up and he knew what he was thinking. He had minded. He had minded quite a lot actually, in the first few days. Thankfully though, he seemed to be feeling kind enough not to point it out.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Juno said instead, “It’s not like I’ll be going far.”

“No,” Nureyev said, “I suppose you won’t.”

-

Juno groaned a little when movement woke him up the next morning. He instinctively curled into the warm body pressed up against him. The person shifted back as if to sleep and he groaned again.

“No.”

A warm chuckle rumbled through the chest in front of him, “You are adorably grumpy this morning, it seems my dear. But I do have to leave.”

He cracked his eyes open and waited for them to adjust. He craned his head up a little and Peter Nureyev looked back at him fondly.

Right. He should probably move. He was just so comfortable though, and ached to drift back to sleep with that warmth surrounding him.

“Time?” he grumbled.

“Oh my, you’re monosyllabic too,” Nureyev teased, but a gentle hand running through his hair belayed any real irritation, “It’s still early, I was just going to take care of Millie, they’ve been complaining for some time, quite like the sullen detective in my arms.”

Juno found the strength to roll his eyes, and then after a moment, roll his body over so Nureyev could escape. “Not a detective.”

“Look at this, he does speak,” Nureyev snorted, and the tell-tale shift of the bed indicated he’d gotten up. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

It all felt so domestic. But the blankets were soft, and he was warm, and before he knew had done just that.

-

When Juno did emerge from the bedroom an hour later he immediately swooped Millie’s into his arms from where they had been sitting in their play pen and cuddled up on the couch with them.

“You all right, Juno?”

“It’s our last day with Millie,” Juno said, his voice slightly mumbled due to the fact he had his face pressed against the top of the baby’s head.

“Yes, Buddy said they’d be here in a couple of hours. Apparently, everything went to plan, and they have Millie’s parents with them,” Nureyev informed him.

Juno lifted his head high enough to pout, “I’ll miss them.”

Nureyev felt his chest squeeze with the sheer adorableness that was one Juno Steel. How he made stubble and an old t-shirt look cute, Nureyev would never know.

“They could visit?” Nureyev offered, but even as he said he knew it would be unlikely.

Juno knew too. “That’s a nice thought, but we know it weren’t happen. They’ve already gotten taken once, I bet Millie’s parents are going to go so far underground we’d never find them again, even if we tried.”

Millie seemed to protest being held like a teddy bear after a while and squirmed around. Juno let them, though kept a loose circle around them to keep them from falling. Millie curled their hands into Juno’s shirt and babbled at him. Juno’s smiled at them indulgently, though his eyes were tinged with sadness.

Nureyev would miss them too, much as he didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t get attached easily, it made things too difficult when you were a thief. You let your head lead you and never your heart.

  
Except Juno had already made him break that rule quite thoroughly, and Millie’s big brown eyes had crept under his walls before he had even noticed. Biting his lip, he shifted to sit beside Juno, and then with all the grace of a teenager on a first date, let his arm fall over Juno’s shoulders.

He didn’t pull away. He leaned into the contact, and so he tightened his arm and pulled Juno into his side. Juno settled his head on Nureyev’s shoulder and shifted Millie until they were settled over both of their laps. Millie reached up and he let them catch one of his fingers and cradle it against their tiny chest. Millie chirped, pleased with their prize.

“We’ll miss them, but we won’t forget them,” Nureyev said softly.

“Yeah,” Juno sighed.

Millie got bored with his hand and released it to curl more solidly against them both. Nureyev placed splayed his newly freed fingers across Millie’s back to keep them from falling. A second later, Juno’s hand knocked against his, and not finding resistant, settled over his.

His breath caught. Juno tipped his head up to look at him.

“Okay?” he whispered.

“Very,” he replied and tilted his head down just a fraction. He felt Juno’s breath on his face, warm and minty, he must have brushed his teeth before finding Millie.

The space between them shrunk until he felt the barest brush of a lip against his own, and god he had been waiting so long for this, and he inhaled and went to close the last of the distance –

“ _Millie, gross!_ ” Juno yanked his head back and covered his nose. The scent hit him a second later and he coughed.

“What are we feeding them that causes that?” He plucked Millie up and held them at arm’s length. They gave him a toothless smile.

“I think it’s just a baby thing,” Juno said, sounding resigned. He let his head fall into the hollow of Nureyev’s throat for just a second, and his breath caught in his throat. All too soon though he pulled away. “Okay, hand them over. I’ll go take of this.”

When Nureyev was the only one left in the living room, he raised one hand and thumbed his bottom lip. Almost, _almost_.

-

“You gotta actually hand her back now, Mistah Steel.”

Rita tapped her foot against the floor and gestured to the doorway in front of him. Her and the rest of the crew, plus Millie’s parents had all arrived a few minute ago. It hit him that this was it, the last time he would likely ever hold the baby in his arms. Millie wasn’t even awake, they had settled into a nap half an hour ago and Juno hadn’t been able to put them down once.

“I know that,” Juno said thickly, sniffling. Rita patted his shoulder in consolidation.

Another hand landed on him, this time on his lower back. “Come now, dear. It’s time for the little munchkin to go back to their parents.”

Nureyev was upset too, but Juno knew he wouldn’t show it, not in front of everyone. But the furrow of his brows gave him away.

At their urging, Juno managed to enter the room, Nureyev gently guiding him forward. As promised, Millie’s parents were waiting inside. Two women were anxiously waiting in the room, a dark-haired woman was pacing back and forth, and the other, lean with a shock of bright pink curls piled up on her head, was leaning against the wall and chewing her nails.

The one pacing looked up and gasped, Millie was taken from his arms a moment later and their parents starting crying, cradling the baby between them. The commotion woke up Millie and they started crying too.

“Miller, honey, I’m so glad you’re safe,” sobbed the dark-haired woman.

Juno retreated away to give them privacy, trying not to sniffle too obviously. A handkerchief appeared in front of him. He followed it up to Nureyev’s face, smiling down at him.

“I thought you might need this.”

“I’m fine,” Juno said and blew his nose, with a sound not unlike a truck honking.

“Of course,” he said indulgently.

“We can’t thank you enough for looking after our baby,” The pink-haired woman appeared in front of him. Juno stuffed the handkerchief into his pocket and rubbed a hand over his eyes.

“It was our pleasure,” Nureyev said.

“We were so worried something had happened to them and – oh my god, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Quay, and my wife is Ellen,” she gestured over at where the woman in question was still crying over Millie.

“Juno Steel,” he held out his hand, and tried to sniff imperceptibly.

“Peter Ransom,” Nuryev purred from beside him.

Quay grabbed his head and shook it vigorously. “It can’t have been easy, I know caring for a baby can be tough. Especially if it’s not your baby. If there’s anything we can do to repay you…”

“You don’t need to do that,” Juno frowned, “Millie – sorry, Miller – isn’t a burden, we didn’t mind looking after them. They were great. Actually I’ll, um, miss them,” he scuffed his toes against the ground.

Her eyes softened and she let go of his head to embrace him gentled, and then did the same to Nureyev, who took it stiffly.

“In that case, I’m glad our baby was in such good hands.”

She glanced between them, and smiled, “And it’s probably good practice if the two of you ever have kids, you know? Now you know what to expect.”

“Oh, no—”

“It’s not—”

Juno and Nureyev almost fell over each other to protest and Quay’s eyes widened, and she stepped back, realising she must have mis-stepped.

“I’m sorry, I just assumed,” she waved her arms in front of her.

“I don’t even—”

“We haven’t talked—” Nureyev paused, “You don’t?”

“I mean,” Juno swallowed, mouth dry, “I want? I just don’t know if you—”

“I want.” Nureyev interrupted.

“Oh,” Juno croaked, “Cool.”

Someone snorted. While they’d been panicking, Ellen had walked up beside Quay, Millie happily situated in her arms and it seemed both of them had calmed down.

“You’re just like me and Quay when we were young,” she said, glancing between them.

“We’re not exactly young ourselves,” Juno said dryly, deciding to talk to her was better than considering the way his heart thundered against his chest.

“Young to love, then,” she insisted, “at least with each other. I don’t know you, other than as the people who cared for our baby when we couldn’t, but if you can care for a baby together and come out looking as smitten as the two of you look, I think you’ll be fine.”

They both spluttered, but Ellen had already walked away.

Quay smiled at them, a little awkwardly now. “Sorry, she’s just like that. I like to think she’s right though.”

Before Juno could even consider how to respond to _that_ , Buddy was standing in the doorway and clearing her throat.

“Jet’s got all the baby things we bought all packed away for you both,” she inclined her head towards Quay and Ellen, “firstly, however, I believe you have some information we were looking for…”

-

Nureyev entered his room that night with a sigh, expecting to find it the room that had been so full the last few days, empty once more. Which was why he was surprised to find Juno sitting on his bed, clutching something in his hands.

He looked up when Nureyev walked in, as if surprised by the man walking into _his own room_.

“Nureyev,” Juno said, “Or wait, do you want me to go back to calling you Ransom now that the rest of the crew is back?”

His nose wrinkled at the very thought. “Nureyev is fine, when you’re sure it’s just the two of us.”

Juno bobbed his head in agreement.

“Is there a reason you’re here,” he prodded gently when Juno didn’t offer anything, before hastily adding, “not that you’re not welcome.”

“Sorry,” Juno sighed, “I just came in to get my clothes I’d left in here, but I found this and got distracted.”

Nureyev sat beside him, all too aware of the scant inches between them. Thoughts of Juno’s proximity vanished for a moment though, when his eyes caught sight of the baby blanket Juno was holding.

“Ah.”

“I guess Jet must have missed it,” he said hoarsely.

“It will be all right, Juno.” Nureyev wrapped his arm around Juno’s shoulders just as he had done earlier that day. He didn’t hesitate this time and neither did Juno. He leaned into the touch and placed the blanket beside him to wrap his arms around the thief in return.

Juno sighed, soaking up the warmth and he wasn’t far off. The other man felt so right in his arms, and he hadn’t realised quite how much something was missing until right then, where he felt it click into place.

Juno, so full of love and so desperate to hide it. But Juno wasn’t hiding right now. He shifted onto his knees, moving upwards until he could drag his nose along Nureyev’s cheek. His breath caught in his throat and stuck.

“Juno?” he said so quietly he couldn’t even be sure he heard it.

“Is this okay?” Juno whispered back, “I really want to kiss you. I can leave if you don’t want to.”

“Juno.” Nureyev repeated, a little louder this time and carrying all the weight of his feelings with it. “You broke my heart once already, I don’t think I could bare it if you did it again.”

Juno went to pull back, but he caught him with a hand on the back of his neck and kept him there, in his arms right where he belonged.

“I’m sor—”

Nureyev shushed him gently, “No need for any more apologies I think, just promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” Juno breathed back instantly, and his heart soared.

“Stay with me tonight?”

“I’ll stay for as long as you want me to.”

Nureyev closed the distant between their lips. He felt the gasp rather than heard it, and then Juno’s was pressing back. A tear slid down his cheek and Juno kissed it away, before capturing his lips again, and again, and again.

He let himself be pressed back into the mattress and thought _I want you to stay forever_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and it's done <3
> 
> Please let me know what you thought, I would love to hear from you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> They'll be 4 chapters (probably, depending on how I split the story) for this fic. And they will come out every second day until it's done. See you then.


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